Finish Line
by x178x
Summary: A dark alternative story of Suzuka characters in a gloomy underside universe. As Yamato gets murdered soon after Suzuka's suicide, Yasunobu seeks to avenge his best friend. To figure out the culprit, he has to face the truth behind the tragic events.


Yamato was striding down the street, cheerful smile on his face. "I've moved to a new city, I live at a new place, and today is my first day in a new high school. I know, something good will happen soon". Walking past the school's track and field facilities, he stopped for a while to cast a look at the morning sky and treetops slightly moved by a light breeze. "Suzuka-chan…"

* * *

"Ah, he's just sick, cold or something like that," I replied nonchalantly to Sakurai Honoka, my classmate, when she asked me about any reasons for Yamato being absent. Well, what else could I suppose? The weather'd been cold and rainy recently, so I thought that he could had got wet in the rain and subsequently ill. What else could've happened to him?

Yamato was my old childhood friend. I met him ages ago when he came to the city to visit his aunt. Since then, we'd had some fun together peeping at girls at the local baths, when it appeared that his aunt was the baths owner and Yamato had access to all the parts and rooms of the baths building. He was a bit clumsy and girls-shy guy, but a kind and really nice one. Well, it was hilarious when I entered the bathroom with a lot of naked girls in it – wow, that happened long time ago, but it still feels good when I recall it! – and then told them that it was Yamato who pushed me into the room. That time he got scolded by his aunt and mad at me, but we made up soon. I guess we'd never had a real fight about anything.

So, he was my old friend Yamato, and we were in the high school – was there anything to worry about when he skipped a day? I sounded convincing, and Honoka agreed with me. Sure, nothing to worry about. He'd be back here in a couple of days. That was simple, general, everyday logic. The one a normal high school guy would use. At that moment I didn't know that there was no more room for such logic – and maybe there never was.

After the end of the classes, I decided to drop by to Asahiyu Baths – the place Yamato's aunt owned where he lived – to take a look at how he was doing. Maybe he wasn't ill at all and just playing hooky, huh?

I pressed the button of a doorbell under "Akitsuki Yamato" nameplate a couple of times, but nobody opened. So I knocked on his door – what if the doorbell didn't work? But still nobody opened. Was he sleeping? Well, that was quite possible. I pressed my ear against the door – no sounds were coming from the other side of it. There was nothing unusual about a sick person sleeping all the day, but at that moment I started to feel worried. As I stepped back from Yamato's door, I tried my best not to look at the nameplate affixed to the wall near a neighboring door. It was "Asahina Suzuka" – for some reason Ayano-san still hadn't removed that name.

Asahina Suzuka went to the same school with me and Yamato. She committed suicide a week before – jumped from the fifteenth floor of an unfinished building down the street the Asahiyu Baths are located at. They used to erect a big hotel there, but the construction works were frozen at a halfway point - there was a scandal with embezzlement, or using hazardous construction materials, or something like that. Since then the unfinished building had been left on its own, a grey concrete carcass with no walls, gloomy and abandoned. So, Asahina went to that place to die, as nobody would be there to butt into what she was going to do. And she proved to be right.

Yamato looked devastated after he'd come to know about her fate – I guess he really liked that girl. When chatting with me, he used to praise her a lot, but, frankly, I wasn't too attentive. You know, when a guy likes a girl, he'd talk about her the same stuff any other guy would tell, isn't it so? All I remembered well enough was that he'd seen her at the school field practicing high jump – she was kind of our school sports superstar - and had fallen for her at the first sight. Well, I thought at that moment, that's what happens to me almost every week – I see a sexy girl and fall for her at once. Next week comes the next girl, and so on…

But what Yamato felt about Asahina was something different, I guess. He was always thinking about that very girl as if he was obsessed with her. As far as he told me, he'd tried to ask her to go out with him, but, knowing what a shy guy Yamato was, I wasn't quite sure that he'd done it in the right way, you know. Anyway he didn't succeed in it. And then, all of a sudden, Asahina died for no apparent reason – just went for an evening walk and was found the next day at the abandoned building site.

Of course, it was a shock for everybody – for what a reason could a young, beautiful and talented girl like Asahina take her own life? It was incomprehensible for everybody, but for Yamato… At that moment he didn't seem to be grieving desperately – I mean, he didn't show that signs like crying all the time, refusing to go out of his room and so on. But something had changed in him, something that was difficult to pinpoint, but which made him look like a completely different person.

What could I tell to my friend? I had no idea. I guess it was quite expectable from a normal high school guy like me to have no idea about what to say to a person whose loved one had committed suicide. But I was sure that showing too much sympathy or condolence, trying to console or commiserate him would only make the things even worse. So I tried my best to behave as usual as possible – just not to bring up the subject. Once a person is dead, it's no use talking too much about that, isn't it?

At that moment, standing by Yamato's door, I thought, "What if he'd committed suicide too?" That was a stupid thought, but I felt goosebumps emerging on my skin as it flashed through my mind. I knocked on his door once more, harder than before. No response. What if…? I shook my head trying to get rid of my anxiety. No, I told to myself, no way. But, anyway, to make sure that Yamato was really sleeping in his room, I went downstairs to Ayano-san's premises to ask how he was doing.

"Ah, hello, Yasunobu-kun! What? Yamato still hasn't returned. Didn't you see him in the school today?" Ayano-san was surprised. But much more was I.

"Ehm… Ayano-san, did you mean that Yamato went to school this morning?"

"Yes, that's what I meant," a smile disappeared from her face, replaced with an anxious frown. "Yasunobu-kun, didn't you see him in the school today?"

Well, it was a tricky question. Of course, I didn't want to denounce my friend ditching school – but, on the other hand, I had the feeling that something really wrong had happened. Moreover, it was already obvious that Yamato hadn't been at the school – if I told otherwise, it would've changed nothing.

"No, I didn't, Ayano-san. Well… he wasn't at the school today. I thought he was ill and that's why I've come here – to ask what'd happened to him."

"Oh, I see. Didn't you try to call his cell phone?" That question made me feel like an idiot. Of course, I could've called him right there, upstairs. Why hadn't I called him, then? I found an answer to the question immediately, and it was scary – for some unkonown reason, I was sure that Yamato wouldn't answer my call.

" I'll call him right now, just a sec," I took my mobile out of the pocket and quickly dialed up. "Sorry, this number is not available now. Please, try to call again later." Shit. "Ayano-san, he's not - "

"Gee, his number's not available?" It wasn't hard to guess, though. "I'll try to call him on my home phone, maybe it'd work better. Please, wait for me inside," she opened the entrance door, inviting me in.

As she went to the next room, I got seated on a chair closest to the entrance door. I felt very awkward and tense. What'd happened to Yamato? What would Ayano-san tell him? I knew she was very shocked with Asahina's suicide and that she had to contact her family. I guess that must've been a great stress for her. And then, I came to her place and brought one more piece of bad and disturbing news – and that made me feel wretched.

Guro-chan, Ayano-san's cat, came into the room and rubbed itself against my leg. As I stroke it, Guro-chan purred with pleasure. That guy always felt comfortable, whatever was happening in the world beyond his nose. Playing with the fat cat, I noticed someone else coming into the room – that was Miho, Ayano-san's daughter. She was about twelve, I guess. I'd seen her a couple of times before in the school. She nodded silently and went back, leaving the door closed behind her. That was kind of strange, huh. Well, children behave strange sometimes – as far as I knew, that was okay.

Ayano-san came back soon, and, looking at her worried face, I could tell that her try to call Yamato was no luckier than mine. Did he turn off his mobile? Or was he somewhere outside the mobile network coverage? Both options were quite probable. Anyway, where could he've gone instead of school? Could it be that…

"Still not available?" I asked that almost rhetoric question not to consider a thought which came to my mind – too disturbing it was. Ayano-san nodded distractedly – I guess, she was pondering on the same. I hoped the thought I was trying to drive away wouldn't occur to her. Damn, it was so stupid of mine. If you don't think about something it won't happen, huh? That was ridiculous.

I had to admit it – Yamato, given his depressive mood, had nowhere to go in the city to ditch classes. Except the only place which could attract him in some morbid way. Yes, that goddamn unfinished building down the street where Asahina'd died. What he'd been doing there for so long?.. Oh, mustn't give Ayano-san any chance to guess about that!

"Ayano-san, I'll go to look for him in a couple of places. Maybe he'd be there. If I find Yamato, I'll bring him right here," that was to some extent a lie, but a white lie. And only to some extent.

"Oh, thank you, Yasunobu-kun! I'm sorry for having you do it for me."

"No problem, I offered it myself."

Turning to the entrance door, I noticed Miho again. She was standing by the door to the next room silently, her face strained. There was something strange about the way she looked… Anyway, I had no time to think about it – and, frankly, no desire as well. Leaving Asahiyu Baths I felt at least a bit released escaping the tense atmosphere I'd brought there by myself.

There was so much talk about adolescent suicide on the TV. An incident here, an incident there, mass suicide, online suicide, suicidal couples, suicidal clubs… Asahina committed suicide a week before. What could Ayano-san have thought? Was she so worried because she thought of Yamato having committed suicide as well?

I couldn't imagine him jumping from height, or hanging himself, or cutting his wrists, or whatever else, but… I hadn't even once talked to him about Asahina's death. And he was so obsessed with her. The idea of killing himself like she'd done could have occurred to him.

On the background of the darkening leaden sky the unfinished building looked even gloomier than usual. Maybe because of my thought it reminded me of a huge tombstone. Who could have been buried under a monstrous thing like that? A giant? Or a huge crowd of people? Oh, such a nonsense.

Having crawled through a hole in a ramshackle metal sheet fence, I looked upwards at the tall concrete structure. It would take a lot of time to walk over every floor of it. It was almost impossible. I got round the building, having to get over debris a couple of time. There was no trace of Yamato – or whoever else at all. I caught myself thinking of what a trace had I been looking for in particular. I had to admit that I'd got no search skills.

"Yamato-kun! Yamato-ku-un!" I shouted out loud. If he was there, he'd hear me and show up, right? "Yamato-o!"

"Shut the fuck up, you prick," as I paused to get my breath, I heard a husky voice from behind me. I quickly turned round to see a man in shabby clothes, his face being swollen and brown from heavy drinking. There was no doubt he was a local bum. "There's no fucking Yamato here."

"E-ehrm," I hesitated for a moment. That guy didn't look too big or strong, but there was something dangerous about him– I could feel that with my gut. And I was alone there. "Sorry. I'm looking for my friend here. Didn't you see - "

"Are you fucking deaf?" the man interrupted me offhandedly. "I've told you already, there's no fucking anybody here, you son of a bitch. Get outta fucking here, you fucking dickhead," oh, too many fucks.

"Ah… hey, listen, sir!" my knees were shaking, but I could no way give in. That guy was like a wild animal, like a jackal or a hyena. If he felt I was afraid of him, nobody knew what he could've done. "What if I buy you a bottle of booze? Would you fuck off and stop bothering me?" well, that was the most obvious way to get along with a guy like that. I couldn't go away before making sure that Yamato wasn't there.

"Fucking shit, man… Deal. A bottle of brandy, and you can do here whatever you fucking want, punk," I guess, it pleased him to swear a guy who had a home and an education – the things that man obviously lacked.

"Okay, then. You wait here, I'll go to the store."

The bum shrugged. Most probably it meant "yes".

Oh, dammit. I went there to look for Yamato trying to commit suicide and ended up being an errand boy for a bum. That was so ridiculous. But I really had no other idea where to look for my friend, so the only thing left for me was to finish up examining that spooky place. The convenience store, fortunately, was just nearby. I picked up the cheapest booze available, but it still seemed to be too good for that homeless fucker. Oh, whatever.

A middle-aged fat woman was standing at the counter, her face being morbid and still, as if she was a piece of waxwork. Technically, I was a minor, so she couldn't sell me any booze, but in fact I'd rarely met a shop assistant in the city who'd care about that. As I approached her, she gave me a contemptuous glance – uh-oh, it would've been a fail if she for some reason refused to sell me that bottle of cheap swill. Oh, anyway.

I put the bottle on the counter to let her scan the barcode.

* * *

"You're kina nice guy, you know," the bum made one more sip from the bottle. As he stood next to me, I could feel the terrible stink coming from him. "But you're fucking wasting your fucking time here, man. I've been here all the day and nobody fucking came. You know, guys like me don't like to come here any-fucking-more," I was looking upwards, at the gloomy construction of pillars and floors devoid of walls. The concrete was wet – it had been raining that morning.

"My friend isn't a guy like you, man," for a dozen of minutes I spent with him, watching the bum drinking the cheap booze I'd brought him yearningly and with pleasure, we'd almost become kind of pals. The kind of pals two people who don't know even the names of each other can be. At least, he didn't mind my not trying to be polite – being treated to the booze made him friendly and kind of nice, as far as he could be nice at all. "Hey, by the way, why don't they like to come here?"

"Because of the fucking cops, bro," bro, you said? Wow. "They came here a couple of times and got local guys fucking scared, so they'd got outta here," he gulped. All that man needed to feel good was a bottle of hooch and somebody to listen to his rants, no matter whom. I guess, as he sobered up, he'd become hostile and short-spoken again. "You know, they always put us down, those motherfuckers. They didn't use to come here often, only if something really noisy happened, you know. But that lil' bitch jumped down right from that fucking place last week, - he pointed somewhere upwards with his hand, I couldn't get where exactly, - so they came here to pick up her fucking corpse and do all that other stuff, those fucking pigs…" Gee, did he really mean…

"What? Did you see Asah… that girl jump down?" I turned to face him. The bum didn't seem to notice my anxiety, or maybe he didn't care about it – as far as he'd got his bottle of cheap brandy, nothing else mattered.

"Yeah, man. I was right over there, you know… Don't remember what I was doing, though. That was a nasty day, and I hadn't had a single drop of booze since the very fucking morning. You know, it sucks when there's no drink to have. So, I was right fucking here, and I wanted to have a drink. I didn't notice her coming here at first – I saw her only when she was up there, you know, on the very edge. You know, cute lil' chicks don't come here often. So I thought – what the fuck does she fucking do here?"

"How did you know she was cute?" I interrupted the bum. "You said she was up there, quite far away to see her well."

"Goddammit, bro, I didn't need to see her close to know she was cute! You know, those lil' school chicks are all cute. They have their fucking parents, their fucking homes and meals, makeup'n'pills," I guess, that was an attempt to rap. A failed one, I should say – he sounded like Charlie Manson in his prison interviews. "They all wear their foxy uniforms and their panties can be seen from under the skirts, you know? I always get a boner when I see schoolgirls," being said by a guy like him, it sounded somehow scary. I recalled all those news reports on pedophiles and rapists. "You too, don't you?"

"Yep, sure, I do," I forced a smile. "So what happened then?"

"Oh, yeah, I thought about her panties, of what color they could be," the fucker chuckled and made a sip from the bottle. He was hell of a jerk. "And as I thought about that, she made a step forward and fucking dropped down. I didn't see her hitting the ground, but it was easy to guess she was a fucking goner," If I'd counted the words derivated from "fuck" he was saying, I'd have already lost count at that moment. "Oh, man – I thought – now there'd be a lot of fucking cops here, so I'd better go somewhere else. And I went to some other place, stayed there for a couple of days and came back here."

"Why did you come back? You said other guys were scared off by the cops."

"'Cause I'm not a pussy, man! I'm not fucking scared of any-fucking-body here, or there or wherever else!" the bum gestured turbulently. "I'm a proud fucking man, and this is my fucking territory! No way will I ever give it up. No fucking way, bro," he seemed drunken already. Chronic dipsos get drunk very quickly – I was familiar with that fact.

"Okay, okay, man. So, you just saw her jumping down from this building?" he nodded and made a sip from the bottle. That's how Asahina's last moments were. She didn't hesitate for a moment – when she came here, she'd already decided. It was so like her! "But today nobody came here?"

"Only you, bro. And that was a damn lucky visit!" he made one more sip.

"No other high school guys?'

"Damn, man, I know what I fucking say! No-bo-dy. Hey, I've been sober all the day, you know," he seemed to be used to people distrusting him.

I didn't know whether it was lucky or not. On the one hand, Yamato didn't come to that gloomy place to… well, do something wrong. On the other hand, I still didn't know where he'd actually gone. What other places could my friend head to? Could that really be that he went to the city center to have some fun in a karaoke bar or some place like that? No, it seemed impossible given his depressive mood. Where else could he go? For the first time I had to admit to myself – I had no idea of what places Yamato usually visited apart from the school.

"Okay. Thanks," what the bum had said meant I'd lost my time in the unfinished building. And that I had no idea where to continue my search. For a couple of seconds I hesitated to ask the bum for advice, but discarded that thought – it would've been too ridiculous. And useless as well – that guy didn't care about my problems. "Bye. Have a nice evening."

My thoughts were far away already. Where should I look for Yamato? What should I tell Ayano-san?

"See ya, bro. You know, I'm gonna stay here for a couple of weeks, so if you have some booze to share, drop by, okay?" I was on my way from the abandoned building site.

Having walked a couple of blocks away, I took a look back on the concrete carcass. It was dark already, and it almost blended with the black sky, as if it'd disappeared. The unfinished building seemed to be a giant monster hiding in the shadow, an ancient mastodon glaring at the human world from the eternal prehistoric darkness. Oh, dammit…

* * *

When I came back home, only the kitchen was lit up, and all I could here was the murmuring of the TV from there. That could mean only one thing – my father was drinking, and, accordingly, my mother had gone to sleep already. That was the only way for her to avoid being beaten up by my father – he always did it when he got drunk. Alcohol made him another person – or an animal, I'd better say. An aggressive, brutal asshole out of any control. Fortunately, mother was the only person he could overpower – my father wasn't a good fighter. Or even a more or less decent one.

Heading to my room, I quickly glanced into the kitchen – my guess was right. Father was sitting at the table, a bottle of liquor before him. His eyes were glassy, not the eyes of a man, but the eyes of some demented brute. I guess he didn't even notice me – for the better, of course. I didn't want to beat him up again – that was the only way to calm him down when he was drunk.

At my room, I called Asahiyu Baths. Nobody answered. Shit, I should've asked Ayano-san for her mobile number. She must've gone out. But I was of no more help anyway. I was seating on my bed, my father mumbling something in the kitchen – I could hear the sound, but I couldn't make out the meaning. Most probably, there was no meaning at all. I was still in my school uniform.

Having changed my clothes, I realized how hungry I was – I hadn't eaten since the lunch break at school. But as long as my father was at the kitchen there was no way I could go there. So I went out to the convenience store – father didn't notice me crossing the corridor again. I never liked staying home – even when my father wasn't drunk, or when he wasn't at home at all, there still was little fun.

Heading to the store, I thought about Ayano-san again. She was a really nice lady. And she had a really nice daughter. Gee, even Guro-chan was a great guy! It must've been amazing to live at her place, like Yamato. For what the hell could he escape from there? I couldn't imagine a single reason.

As my burgers were being reheated in a microwave oven, I suddenly felt a twinge of guilt to Ayano-san. She must've been looking for Yamato, calling to hospitals, police stations, maybe morgues – how could I just go home, to my bed? Fucking Yamato-kun – when we find you, I'd give you a good bashing! I was eating the burgers on the go – surprisingly, they tasted very well.

* * *

"The police told me they weren't going to look for him. They said, more time had to pass before they could start the search under the law," Ayano-san was pale, like my mother when she heard the sound of a liquor bottle being opened in the kitchen. She almost dragged me into the dining room and made me some tea – frankly, after the spicy burgers I was thirsty as hell, but I hesitated to drink despite it smelled awesome. "He's not at any hospital, at least in the nearby districts. I called some of your classmates' parents, but nobody knows anything. What will I tell to his parents? Gee…"

"I hope everything will be okay," I couldn't come up with anything better. I guess I looked like a total dumbass. Yamato was really missing. What could've happened to him? A traffic accident? Then why wasn't he at a hospital?

"I hope too," Ayano-san didn't sound really optimistic, though. "Yasunobu-kun, may I ask you for something?"

"Uhm… Sure. What do you mean?"

"Could you go to Yamato's room and look for something… I don't know, for something which can give us a lead to where to look for him. Maybe a note in a phonebook, or something like that. I think it'd be easier for you than for me."

"Of course, Ayano-san, just give me the key," could it be that she avoided inspecting Yamato's room after she had to clear up neighboring Asahina's quarter after she'd died? Could that mean that she was already thinking of Yamato's death? Dammit. Anyway, if she asked me I couldn't refuse.

Key in my hand, I walked upstairs, to the dormitory premises. "Akitsuki Yamato". I glanced to the right – "Asahina Suzuka". When the next occupant moves into this room, would Ayano-san tell him about that girl? Oh, gimme a break. I quickly opened the door and came in.

The room was dark and silent. I could feel a bad smell – what could that be? As I groped the switch and turned the light on, I could see the origin of the odor – there was a pile of dirty tableware in the sink. Some of it must've stayed there since the day before or even earlier. Apart from that overfilled sink, the room looked plain and ordinary as usual. A bed. A table. A closet. A TV set. A door to the bathroom. It was not just plain – I'd better say it was boring.

There wasn't anything neither on the table nor on the bed. There was nothing under the bed as well as under the table. I opened the closet to see a neat row of garments on hangers. There was nothing irregular at all. As I was going to close it and leave the room, I got an eerie feeling – it came to my mind that the regularity of the room seemed suspicious. There must've been some porn zins, at least! I had to go the whole hog with my room examination – and I opened a small drawer in the lower section of the closet which was obviously for underwear.

When I saw it, I came to understand at once – we wouldn't find Yamato, at least, alive. It wasn't even hidden – just lying on a heap of shirts and underpants, as if it was something common and usual. Fucking shit, man, I'd never thought Yamato would have something like that at his place! I was stunned as it became clear to me how little I'd known about my best friend.

That was a small revolver – a metallic black thing with a rubber handle – and a shabby pack of Lucky 4 which was way too heavy for a pack of cigarettes. As I opened it, I saw some 9mm rounds inside – Yamato had not only a gun, but ammo too. The gun was loaded as well – it had a five round magazine. I guess the bullet capacity of that model was reduced for the concealed carrying's sake.

Mechanically I grabbed both the gun and the ammo and shove them into the inner pockets of my jacket. The gun seemed to be big, heavy and to bulge from under the jacket, but as I examined my looks in the bathroom mirror, I didn't notice anything suspicious about it.

Holy crap, a real gun! What was I thinking about when I grabbed it from that drawer? Well, first, when the cops came – and that was inevitable – and found it, Ayano-san would have problems. Second, if Yamato was still alive, he would have problems as well – having an illegal gun is a crime, and who knows how many people had been already killed with that thing? Finally… oh, shit, I had to face the truth – nobody was going to investigate Yamato's death really. The city had an enormous crime rate, and most of those crimes remained unsolved or even intentionally hidden by the police: oh, one more dead brat – let's tell them it was an accident, or a suicide or whatever else shit. Leaving the gun for cops didn't mean giving them a clue to find Yamato's murderer – it meant giving them a chance to screw out a bribe from Ayano-san and then resell the gun to somebody else on the black market.

So, if I or Ayano-san wanted justice, we could count only on ourselves. And it was better to have a gun than not to have one. Moreover… a gun! G. U. N. It was a magic word. It was a dream of every guy – and every girl as well - in the city. A gun meant power, a real ability to protect yourself and the people you liked. Having a gun meant the freedom of movement – you didn't have to avoid lonesome alleys and walking late, the freedom of speech – you didn't have to be afraid of telling "Shut the fuck up!" to noisy drunken neighbors, and, most importantly, the freedom to be at least somehow confident of your life's value – with a gun in your pocket it was no more a thing anybody could easily take.

I checked the room once more, examining every corner, every place where at least something could've been hidden, but found nothing more. Then I went downstairs. Standing before the entrance door, I hesitated for a moment – what should I tell Ayano-san to sound plausible?

"T… there's nothing special about Yamato's room," I gave the keys back to her. "I guess I'll go home now. Please, call me if you need anything. And when you find him… uh, tell him I'm hell of angry," the last phrase was a complete and deliberate lie – I knew that'd never happen.

"Sure. Thank you, Yasunobu-kun. Take care," it wasn't just a polite phrase. It was a relevant reminder.

Leaving Asahiyu Baths, I faced with two girls living in the dormitory – a hot dyed blonde and a girl in big glasses, quite a plain one apart from her generous boobs. I've talked to them a couple of times when I visited the place before. Both of them were a bit drunk and laughing aloud. The blonde chick waved me a hand and said something, but I just nodded distractedly and walked by. They hadn't known anything yet. They had no idea about what'd happened to Yamato. In fact, I didn't know either – but I had no more doubts as to my friend's fate.

On my way back home I recalled the good times I spent together with Yamato-kun. I tried to find in those memories a clue to what'd happened recently – and I couldn't. There was nothing in my memories about Yamato that could give me any reason to think that he'd end up like this – gone missing with an illegal gun in his room. How could I know that little about my best, goddammit, friend?

No lights were on in the apartment – father had gone to bed already. The kitchen smelled with booze – not booze itself, but what it becomes after being absorbed into a human's mouth. I opened the window leaf and checked the fridge – what I saw meant that I'd have to buy my breakfast in the convenience store, like I'd bought the dinner: there were only five bottles of beer for my father to fight hangover the next morning.

As I entered my room, I didn't turn on the lights. I got undressed trying not to make any noise and hid the gun and the ammo under the mattress of my bed, at the foot – not to feel it with my ribs when I sleep. Damn, man, what made you get this thing and keep it in your room? I wished I could have a chance to ask him personally.

I was lying on my bed watching into the darkness above my head. Somewhere behind it there was a ceiling, but I couldn't see it – only the blackness which seemed to be endless. I hadn't faced death really often. My grandma long time ago, a classmate in the middle school, Asahina a week before… and now Yamato. I didn't have any confirmation of his death, but it was obvious. Farewell, my friend.

A tear ran down my cheek and dropped on the pillow. I closed my eyes to stop it, but it didn't help.

* * *

I was woken up by my mother – that was strange, because my alarm usually went off after she'd left for work.

"What's up, mom?" I asked rubbing my eyes. She looked pale, thin and nervous – as usual. I guess she hated every morning she had to wake up and go to her work, while my father stayed home, sleeping late and doing nothing – apart from getting drunk and looking for troubles on his ass.

"Ayano-san, your friend's aunt called me," there was something unusual about her voice, but I couldn't tell what it was in particular. "She said Yamano was found dead this morning," I wasn't surprised about what she said, neither did I bother to tell her he was Yamato, not Yamano. I'd got ready for that since the very moment I took the gun from Yamato's room.

"What'd happened to him?" my voice sounded way to casually, still a bit sleepy. I noticed that mother was surprised with my composure. Yes, I knew – a normal high school guy shouldn't react like that. But a normal school guy shouldn't keep a loaded gun under his mattress as well. To hell with normal school guys.

"Somebody stabbed him to death in an alley near your school. Maybe the cops'll come to question you today."

"You mean he was killed yesterday in the morning?" a chill ran down my spine.

"I guess so," mother shrugged. "She didn't give me much detail. You know, it was strange that she called me at all. I didn't know she'd known our home number," I hesitated for a moment to tell her that I came to Ayano's place the day before, but decided not to tell anything. All my mother would tell me was not to mess with other people's problems. And that was a wise advice, by the way.

"Okay, I gotta go. The fridge's empty, so buy something on your way to school – I've left some money on the table. And cheer up, okay? The life still goes on," the last phrase was way too weird to hear from a person whose face was as gloomy as my mother's.

"Yes, mom. Thank you for the money. Have a nice day," I waved a hand, but she was already gone. I could hear her footsteps in the corridor and then the sound of the door being shut behind her and locked. There were twenty minutes left before my alarm would go off, but I didn't want to sleep.

So, now there was no doubt that Yamato-kun was murdered. I personally had no doubt that the murder was directly connected with what he'd been doing recently – and for what he'd got the gun I had now under the mattress. But it was too early to make any conclusions – first, I needed to hear from Ayano-san about what'd actually happened. If she'd been contacted by the cops recently, she had to have gone to the morgue, to identify the body.

Wasn't it okay for a friend of the deceased to drop by in the evening – when Ayano-san would've probably returned – to express my condolences? Yes, it was.

Before leaving for the school, I made my bed thoroughly – it had to be completely unsuspicious.

* * *

"I'm so sorry for what've happened, Ayano-san. Even now it's hard for me to realize that it… it was for real," heer eyes were red, black circles under them. "You know, Yamato was my best friend, and I just wanted to say that I share your grief. Please, accept my sincere sympathies, Ayano-san," I bowed. For some strange reason I was worried about the possibility of sounding not sad enough.

"Thank you, Yasunobu-kun," her voice seemed different, as if some other person was speaking for her. "I know, it's hard for you too. Please, come in," I entered the room with the same awkward feeling I had the day before. Well, maybe even more awkward.

"When will the funeral take place?"

"After Yamato's father has his body taken back to Hiroshima. He'll be buried there."

Guro-chan purred lying on the pillow. He was happy as usual – there was neither death nor mourning for him as long as Ayano-san gave him the food.

"I see," now, having finally come there, I had no idea what to say next. "Can you tell me where the body was found and what wounds were on it? Or maybe there were any clues leading to the culprit?" Shit, I felt so stupid.

"Did the detectives come to your school?" finally, Ayano-san broke the silence herself.

"Oh, um… yes, they did. They asked some questions about Yamato-kun. I tried to ask them if they have any suspects, but they didn't tell me anything."

"Suspects, you say? Oh, poor Yasunobu-kun. They're not going to actually investigate anything. As I was told, they believe Yamato was killed in a robbery, maybe by some junkies desperate for a fix. Do you know how many cases like this are being solved a year?" she connected her thumb and index finger into a circle. "Zero. Maybe they'll find later some poor guy to make him confess and sentence him for Yamato's death, but I doubt it'll have anything to deal with the real killer," I could see tears in her eyes. "A robbery, they say. A gang of junkies, they say. Geez, it was a couple of quarters from here, right in the middle of an alley adjoining to the street he went to school by, early in the morning! Somebody stabbed him twice in the stomach and several times in the neck! Why did he turn to that alley? I don't believe them."

I was sitting there with no idea what to do, Ayano-san sobbing before me. Having nothing to tell, I reached my jeans pocket and offered her a paper tissue. As she took it with her shaking hand, I noticed one more actor of that dumb show – Miho was standing by the door and staring at us. For how long was she being there? Totally confused, I just nodded silently. Miho didn't reply.

"E-excuse me, Ayano-san," finally, I stood up. "I have to go."

I don't remember what she said as I left her place. There was something oppressive about staying there, so I hurried into the gloomy dusk outside, where cold wind was blowing.

She didn't tell me which alley it was exactly, but it wasn't hard to guess. Maybe it was even for the better that she didn't give me the exact name. I was heading right there, the bare branches of sparse trees blustering in the freezing gusts above my head.

My guess proved to be right – in the middle of the alley there was a chalk-drawn human silhouette on the asphalt. That alley was certainly a great place for a murder – no windows were facing it. Having come closer, I noticed a big dark stain on that place – no doubt, it was stale blood. There were also two small chalk-drawn circles around – the cops marked the places where they'd found some items which seemed suspicious. What could they be? Oh, well. The cops weren't going to tell me that anyway.

Much more important were two things. First, the alley really had nothing to do with Yamato's way to school apart from being adjoined to it. Second, the way from the beginning of the alley to its center was quite long – so Yamato most probably walked it by himself. An image flashed through my mind: somebody invites Yamato for a short talk – as it was morning and he was heading to the school – into that alley and kills him.

As Yamato agreed to go there, he had to know the killer. As he didn't find strange talking at such a lonesome place, there was some reason for him to make sure that nobody hears them talking. That day he left his gun at home – that means he didn't expect any danger on his way. Could that mean he trusted the person who'd taken him to the alley and cold-heartedly murdered, aiming stabs at his throat to ensure the lethal outcome? Could that mean that person was his accomplice in what he'd done? By the way, what he'd done or was going to do?

There was only one way to find that out – to get a complete picture of what Yamato had been doing recently. To reveal all the details of his secret life. To put together the complete record of his recent activities, to walk the way from the point of his arrival to the city to that alley looking through Yamato's eyes – and see the face of the murderer.

Of course, literally it was impossible – I wasn't a psychic or a sensitive, if somebody on this Earth was at all, which I highly doubted. But, obtaining relevant information and using my logical thinking, I could reconstruct the events with almost the same correctness. Now, when my best friend was already gone, it was the time to discover who he really was.

Instead of going straight home, I took a walk around the crime scene, discovering the neighboring area. It was getting darker, and the wind was getting colder, but I deliberately slowed down – I didn't want to miss anything in a hurry. In fact, I knew that area – I've been there quite a few times when I came to see Yamato. But I tried to be as diligent as I could. A couple of times I went into convenience stores to warm up a bit – the weather was really nasty.

Finally, I didn't found anything special – maybe because I didn't have a clear idea of what I was looking for. Well. There was the alley – it connected two parallel streets. One of them was leading to our school – well, actually, to a lot of different places as well – the other one took a turn to the right in a couple of quarters. There were Asahiyu Baths – about seven minutes from the alley in a quick pace. Shit, Yamato was lying there for almost twenty for hours, while Ayano-san was looking for him all over the city! By the way, who was the person to find him in the morning? Oh, I couldn't get an answer at once anyway.

There was the unfinished building where Asahina died – about twenty minutes from the alley, and, therefore, about fifteen minutes from Asahiyu Baths. Two weeks, two dead guys from the same school, who lived in neighboring rooms, in the same quite small area. Damn, could there be any connection between those two deaths? Quite probably.

There also was a Shinto temple within ten minutes reach from the alley – I haven't ever been interested in religion, but that temple was familiar to me: I read in a newspaper that the priest of that temple supported far-right wing activists during the unrests a year before. Such a freak he was!

There also were several convenience stores, a couple of hairdresser's shops, a couple of laundries, some clothing stores… Well, quite a lot of different places which obviously had nothing to do with the murder. I tried to sum up the results of the vicinity inspection I undertook, but there were no conclusions for me to make. The only special thing about that area was that Asahina died relatively nearby. Was it a valuable notice? Hardly. A lot of people died in the city every day in neighboring places, but not all those deaths were connected.

Maybe I was too cold and tired to think properly. Anyway, it was quite late. I had to return home and elaborate a plan of what to do the next day.

* * *

The light was turned off in my room, and I was lying on the bed, staring into the darkness again. I could hear the TV mumbling from the living room – my mother still wasn't asleep – and the sound of raindrops outside. Father was somewhere out. What should I do next?

I still hadn't got an elaborate plan, but, at least, I'd outlined some basic directions. First, I needed to talk to the members of our school track and field club – and that wasn't a simple task. All those guys were local toughs – spending day time at the practice, night time – on the streets, drinking, fighting, steeling, robbing, taking drugs, selling drugs and so on. If your physique is good – you gonna use it to have some fun, right?

The police questioned them first of all, as Yamato'd recently joined their club. And, as far as I could get from what Honoka, who was the club manager, had told me, he was seeking to get closer to Miyamoto, the ringleader. Oh, damn – I couldn't comprehend how she could be that club manager and not get gang raped. But maybe it meant that they were not as brutal as I thought, and there was a way to find a common language with them. I had no idea what in particular I'd ask – but I needed to start talking about Yamato, at least.

Could it be that one of those guys was the murderer? Well, quite possible – there'd been some cases already. If there was a murderer among them, there'd be little possibility that all the other members are not aware of that. Thus, there'd be a high possibility of them abetting him. Damn, talking to them was going to be very similar to interrogating the suspects – except I couldn't beat them up and put to torture, like the cops usually do.

Apart from the club – or, I'd better say, the gang – members I needed to ask some questions to Yamato's neighbors, that is to the girls I saw the day Yamato went missing. I even recalled their names: the hot blonde one was Saotome Yuka, and the big tits-big glasses one was Matsumoto Megumi. Both of them were local medical college students and lived in Ayano-san's dormitory, a floor upper than Yamato.

He told me that those two sometimes had come to have a drink in his room – maybe they'd seen something strange in it, or noticed something unusual about Yamato himself. There was also a point in asking some questions to Ayano-san and Miho, but I had to abandon that idea for the time being – for quite obvious reasons.

And I also wanted to check on possible connection with Asahina's death. In fact, there was no direct evidence of its existence, but the closeness of those two tragedies bugged me. Could there really be no connection between the deaths of two neighbors and classmates, one of whom was in love with the other? But I had no idea at all how to reveal that connection – if there was connection at all – so that direction of my search was number three in my plan – if it could really be called a plan at all.

I rolled over in bed and closed my eyes trying to ignore the sound of TV which had become louder. I needed a good rest.

* * *

"Honoka-chan, do you know the guys from the track and field club well?" after a certain consideration, I decided to start my investigation on the club with Honoka as the least dangerous of them.

"Uh, I can't say so. You know, I just do what I must as the club manager, but I don't really talk to them much or have any friends among them," she kept silent for a while and added, "Frankly, I'm kind of scared of them."

"Oh, I understand you," I nodded readily. Well, that was the high time to ask the question I thought was the most logical to be asked in the very beginning, "Why did you join the club, by the way? I think it was… well, quite a strange choice."

"Yeah, Yasunobu-kun, I think so," I noticed her blushing and didn't say anything, inviting her tacitly to go ahead. "It's so embarrassing to say… But now, after… I think, I can tell you. Maybe I'll sound ridiculous, but I joined the track and field club right after Yamato'd joined it, because I wanted to spend more time with him. As I have no athletic skills, I joined as a club manager. I hated it actually, but Yamato'd spend so much time at the track…"

"You mean… were you going out with Yamato-kun?"

Damn, I should've noticed that Honoka liked Yamato much earlier.

"No, we didn't," Honoka blushed even more. I couldn't help but notice that she was really cute. And, I should admit, really brave to go after Yamato to those jerks – for a girl it was more dangerous than for a guy. "Yamato didn't pay me much attention. He liked Asahina, so…"

"I'm sorry for bringing it up."

She looked really sad. What she told me meant she'd also lost a person she loved, just like Yamato. Well, at least, they weren't actually going out – in that case it'd be more painful, I guess. But I didn't tell her that – it'd be an obviously strange way to comfort her. I didn't tell anything at all for a while, waiting for her to start crying – talking to Ayano-san taught me some basics on mourning ladies. As her eyes remained dry, I asked one more question.

"Didn't you notice anything strange about him recently?"

"What do you mean?" she looked confused a bit.

"Well… I don't know," now it was my turn to be confused. Why the hell didn't I think at least a step ahead before asking that question? What did I really expect her to answer me? That she saw Yamato buying an illegal gun and talking to suspicious people in the alley? "Maybe there was something unusual," she still didn't seem to get me. "Well, you know, he was very depressed about what happened to Asahina, so he didn't talk to me much recently," uff, I guess, that sounded more or less okay.

"Oh… yes, he seemed to be really depressed. I tried to talk to him a couple of times, but he was so unresponsive… That's the only strange thing about him."

"Yes, I've noticed the same. I guess, it was really a hard time for our friend," I didn't know what to say next. I looked ridiculous, for sure. Honoka joined the club because Yamato'd done the same. Just like Yamato himself who joined the club because Asahina was among its members… oh, damn! "Well, Honoka-chan, I have to go now. Cheer up and have a nice day!"

I rushed away from her, to my classroom, although it was quite a plenty of time before the class would start. Shit, how could I be such an idiot? When considering the commonalities between Asahina and Yamato, why did I overlook the fact they belonged to the same track and field club in which all the local teenage thugs were training? And why hadn't I still asked myself an obvious question – wasn't Asahina's death actually a murder?

* * *

Miyamoto-sempai didn't give an impression of a tough guy – he wasn't way too sturdy, neither did he look intimidating. He had no tattoos or stuff like that. He wore glasses. In fact, he looked quite nerdy. But that appearance was deceptive, and those who got misled by it, would have problems. I didn't know what kind of stuff that guy did, but the rumors I'd heard were creepy enough to feel nervous around him.

"Hi," I waved my hand as I approached him. "Are you Miyamoto-sempai?"

A dozen of faces turned to me. Miyamoto's left eyebrow rose above the frame of glasses.

"Hi. I am. Want to sign up?" Miyamoto sounded quite friendly – a good sign?

"No, thank you. I just wanted to express my condolences about the death of your club member, Akitsuki Yamato,"that was the most reasonable occasion to discuss Yamato with them I managed to come up with.

"Oh, the fuck boy?" Miyamoto chuckled. "Well, we're in no mourning about that wanker," some guys who stood nearby chortled. They didn't seem to respect Yamato much. "Who're you, by the way?"

"I'm Hattori Yasunobu," I didn't tell anything else, just giving an answer to the question. Talking too much with that type of guys could be dangerous.

"Are you the fuck boy's friend?" asked a short-haired guy who stood next to Miyamoto. His tone wasn't friendly at all. What should I answer? Admitting your friendship with a "fuck boy" could easily mean declaring yourself a fuck boy too.

"Uhm… why do you call him fuck boy?" I decided to dodge the question. Damn, that was me who came to that fucking track to ask questions! …Ouch. It was no good to get angry with those sturdy guys around me. I forced a smile.

"Because he was a fuck boy," it was Miyamoto who answered. That was a good sign again – he wasn't as hostile as that guy next to him. "When he came to us for the first time, we made a bet on 'nothing'," - he emphasized the last word, sounding hell of sinister. "He lost, and I told him to pay. He asked, 'What should I pay? The bet was nothing'. I didn't argue with him, 'Yes, it was. And for me your ass is nothing'," having heard that, the guys started laughing aloud. Shit, what did he mean? "He didn't get me, I guess. So, we had to seize hold of him. He was crying and begging us not to fuck him, but he'd lost – and he had to pay. These are the rules, you know. But he was so pathetic that I gave him a handicap and allowed to use his mouth instead of his ass – so he gave a blowjob to all of us. Since then he'd become the fuck boy."

Fuck, was he really serious? Miyamoto's tone was calm and… maybe, proud?

"Goddammit, man, that was a rape, wasn't it?" I still couldn't figure out whether he was joking or not.

"Sure it was," chortled the short-haired one. "But, you know, he asked us himself when he offered his ass as a bet. Maybe he even liked it, huh? By the way, later we've finally had his ass too," suddenly I felt like I was going to throw up. What the fuck was going on? The whole track and field club raped Yamato repeatedly. Homosexual gang rape. Was he kind of their sex slave? Hadn't the world just become completely twisted out of sudden?..

"So, as you can see, Yamato wasn't a pal of ours," Miyamoto came closer. "And we don't need your condolences. In fact, I don't get for what the fuck did you come here at all, Hattori Yasunobu," he was piercing me with a cold gaze. His eyes were intelligent… Damn!

"Are you fucking nuts?" I shouted aloud at him. "You and these motherfuckers raped Yamato and you fucking tell me about that? Come on, you fucking jerk, don't you think you can get to prison for stuff like that?" I knew I was behaving stupid and dangerously for myself, but I couldn't stop it. "You piece of shit, I'll go to the cops right now and – " I didn't finish as the short-haired guy's fist crashed into my stomach and there suddenly became no air in my lungs. Well, even if there still remained some, the pain I felt wouldn't let me go on anyway.

"Hey, Kobayakawa, stop it!" Miyamoto didn't seem to approve of what his subordinate'd done. "I've told you many times, no fighting at the track. I don't want to have problems with the cap. Hey, dickhead, are you okay?" the last phrase was obviously addressed to me. I kept silent as I didn't want to admit the 'dickhead'… And my stomach hurt too much as well. "You'd better keep in mind that Yamato's already fucking dead, and, even if you go to the cops, it'd be almost impossible to prove the rape. You know, there must be some traces of semen and some other stuff, which I highly doubt would be found even if they examine the corpse again. So you shouldn't have given me that crap," the guys around were giggling – everyone who was on the field came to watch the show. "Damn, guys leave this jerk here! Go on with your training, everyone! Come on!"

Soon I was left alone, as if nothing had happened. I was seething with rage. That fucking asshole Miyamoto and his henchmen raped my best friend, and I couldn't do anything about that! I couldn't denounce them to the cops, I couldn't beat them up… Well, I could. As I thought of the small five-round pretty thing under my mattress, my pain shrank. With a gun I could do whatever I pleased with those jerks… Gee! Why the hell did I come to see them at the school, where I couldn't make use of my gun? Why didn't I find them after school and make those fags obey my fucking rules?

Oh, Miyamoto, you fucking piece of shit, when I find you, maybe even today, I'll…

"Hey, Yasunobu-kun," a long-haired girl in a bikini track uniform called out to me. Despite anger blurring my vision, I was struck with how sexy she looked in it. Wasn't she cold? The weather was chilly. Ah, whatever.

"What?" I tried to sound as polite as possible. Well, I didn't quite succeed.

"Are you stupid?" that question confused me with its straight-forwardness.

"Hey, what do you mean?" how did she dare talk to me in such a way without even introducing herself?

"I think you are, Yasunobu-kun," she went on as if nothing had happened. "You come here and threaten to Miyamoto. Don't you know it's quite dangerous?"

"Don't you know you're supposed to tell me who you are before lecturing me?" should I've better ignored that rude chick?

"I'm Hashiba Miki," that name sounded familiar, but I couldn't recall where I heard it. "And I saw those guys molesting Yamato-kun…"

"What!? So, you can be my witness?" shit, could she really be of help?

"Gee, just shut the fuck up and don't interrupt me!" why did I listen to heart all? Maybe, because she was twice as sexier when angry? "Yamato-kun was a toady. He desired desperately to deal with Miyamoto and take part in what his gang does. But they didn't accept him as a real member and made him their… uh, I don't know how to call it. Plaything, maybe. I don't know in what fantasy world you live, but here these guys are really dangerous. And you'd better never mess with them. If you do – whatever can happen. So you'd better apologize properly to Miyamoto and mind your language further on."

"I'm dangerous too!"

Shit! Why the hell did I say that nonsense? I surely sounded like a little child. A retarded little child.

"Oh, gimme a break," she sounded way too skeptical. Did I really perform that pathetic here? Yes, I did. "You know, my best friend also died recently. And when I came to know about it, first of all I thought about Miyamoto and his gang. I had no doubt they could've killed Suzuka-chan."

"What?! Suzuka? Did you mean Asahina Suzuka?" was I that lucky to meet Asahina's best friend out of sudden? She could tell me quite a lot.

"Yes. They told it was a suicide, but I don't believe," she looked sad, her eyes dropped. "Why would Asahina kill herself? She didn't tell me of anything to make her do it. She just skipped some workouts, a couple of school days, and then… So I was almost sure that Miyamoto gang murdered her. Who fucking else could?" she looked into my eyes suddenly. "And do you know why I hadn't tell anything to the cops or whoever else?"

"Uh… Maybe you had no evidence?"

"Even if I had I wouldn't. Because I fucking knew that nothing would happen. Some of those guy's parents are big shots. And whatever they do would be covered up. But if they'd know I was trying to cause them problems, they'd rape, torture and kill me. And that's not different for you. Do you get me?" she was looking into my eyes, and I saw a real terror into hers.

So there was a high probability that it was Miyamoto who'd killed Asahina. And somebody's wealthy and powerful parents were abetting the whole gang. And that girl, Miki, was so scared of Miyamoto that she deliberately chose to forget about her friend's death…

"Listen up, you bitch," I was surprised myself with how angry my tone was. "Go and give a blowjob to your almighty Miyamoto, if you're okay with him killing your best friend. And never – did you hear me well? – never even think of coming near me!"

I rushed away from the field, infuriated. How could she be such a slag?.. Oh, fucking Miyamoto! When I pick up my gun from home, I'll… What would I do? Go and kill him? I imagined the gun in my hand. So, just come a bit closer, aim it and fire… and what then? I kill Miyamoto – I get caught by the cops – I get sent to prison. Thinking about that, I sobered up.

In fact, I wasn't even sure that Miyamoto was the murderer. Yes, he was a rapist and even admitted it himself, but why should I be sure he killed Yamato? Did he have any reason? Why would he invite Yamato to the alley and stab him? In fact, I had no direct evidence against him. If I went and killed Miyamoto right then, the real murderer could stay safe and sound. No, I wanted the real justice. But what had I got?

In fact, I'd got nothing. Not a single clue. All I'd done up to that moment was a failure.

* * *

Yamato, my best friend, a nice and kind guy I'd known since childhood turned out to be local tough guys' sex slave who wanted to do serious business and kept a gun in his room. Had I gone insane? No way could a normal high school guy imagine something like that. But I couldn't prove otherwise. It was the truth. The fucking truth.

So, there was Miyamoto gang, and those guys weren't playing games – they were real offenders: rapists for sure, drug dealers most probably, murderers – quite possible. That Miki girl told me she thought they'd killed Asahina and made it look like a suicide. Why did she think so? In fact, she gave me no reason. But she was really terrified, almost paranoid, I should say. I guess she really wanted to warn me.

Okay, even if Asahina'd been really killed by Miyamoto gang, what could be the connection between her and the creepy stuff Yamato was doing? And, moreover, how could she've been killed if the bum at the abandoned building site saw her jump down? Was he lying? Or did Miki just give me bullshit?

My head was spinning. Damn. I tried to recollect all I knew about Asahina's suicide… or not suicide? About a week ago, she returned to the dormitory after school, then, when it was dark already, went somewhere outside. She didn't tell anybody where to. She came to the abandoned building site, reached on a high floor and jumped down. On the next day, the body was found. That was all I knew.

Came back – stayed at the dorm for a while –went out – came to the site – jumped down – found. Back – stayed – out – site – jumped – found. Something about that route was bugging me. What could that be? Back – stayed – out… "Cute lil chick… hot schoolgirls… foxy uniforms…" – the bum's husky voice echoed in my head. Dammit! How could that jerk talk about schoolgirls and, all the more so, their uniforms if Asahina wasn't wearing her school uniform? She came back to the dorm after school, and, therefore, must've changed. Fucking old prick.

He called her cute. I asked him how he could know whether she was cute if he'd seen her only from the distance. Then he started talking about school uniform – all the chicks in school uniform were cute for him. But she wasn't wearing it. But he still knew she was cute. How could that be? Only one way – he saw her close. How could that happen? Oh, shit…

Could it be that he was there with the gang members who threw Asahina down from the height? Gee, those gang members again – it was kind of paranoid. Okay, leaving them aside – but not ruling out the possibility, of course – could it be that he was the murderer? He could probably attempt to rape her, face resistance and kill her.

But if I assumed either of those possibilities, some questions would arise. First, if the bum had really taken part in the murder, why did he mention Asahina at all? It'd be absolutely logical for him to pretend he hadn't seen anything at all. And why did he return to the crime scene just in a couple of days? It was a very strange behavior for a murderer.

Second, why did Asahina come there? What was she doing in an abandoned unfinished building? Could the gang members ask her to come there? If they did, why did she come? Didn't she understand it could be dangerous given the backgrounds of those jerks? Asahina wasn't that stupid and careless.

Then what was the case? "I'll stay here for a couple of weeks…" – I needed to find that fucker and ask him about Asahina again.

* * *

I took the gun from under the mattress and checked the magazine – although I knew it was loaded. I considered taking the ammo too, but then decided to leave it at my room – I didn't need that many rounds anyway. If I got into a trouble, I wouldn't have a chance to reload the gun. I put it into the same pocket in which I brought it to my room a day before, then tried to get it quickly a couple of times. Well, I wasn't as fast as Clint Eastwood. Nowhere near.

I was staring at the gun in my hand for some time. I needed to elaborate a way to show whoever I'd have to that I was ready to fire. Just aim? Well, that wasn't enough. Make a warning shot? Hm, too loud, a bit too thick. I needed some phrase which would make the bad guy sure – that motherfucker with a gun in his hand's gonna shoot to kill.

Okay. "I'll kill you right now, you fucker!" No. Too aggressive, too stupid. "Freeze!" No. Too cop-like. "You move, I shoot" Well… no. "That's my fucking gun and I'm gonna fucking use it!" I liked how it sounded. There was something rallying about that phrase, but it still was too long to say. So I decided not to say it at all – all I needed was to repeat it inwardly, like a mantra, to make myself believe it. And if I succeeded, the badass would get me without any words.

I left home heading to the abandoned building site. I didn't see it, but I could clearly imagine the black carcass against the grey sky, the chilly wind howling in the bearing structures devoid of walls.

* * *

I guess the bum was waiting for me – he appeared right as I entered the sigte. "That's my fucking gun and I'm gonna fucking use it. I'm gonna fucking use it. Bear it in mind, you shitbag," - The mantra didn't seem to help me – I still felt hesitant. What should I say? How should I make him say the truth?

"Hi, bro!" the bum laughed hoarsely. "Long time no see, huh? Yeah, I know, you wanna have a drink with me. Come on, let me have some booze!" that was disgusting.

I silently offered him a bottle which I'd bought on my way to the site. He gulped greedily, as if that was his last bottle. And that could be so, I told myself. "That's my fucing gun, and I'm gonna fucking use it". He didn't tell me anything, concerned only with the booze. I was waiting till he got drunk. That was the right time to act.

"Why did you kill the girl?" I chose the tough tactics.

"What girl, man?" he seemed surprised. Or were there any other girls that fucker'd killed?

"The hot lil chick last week, you motherfucker!" I shouted. - "That's my fucking gun, and I'm gonna fucking use it. That's my fucking gun…" - "I know that wasn't a suicide. You fucking killed her!"

"Hey, what the fuck did you say, man? Give me a fucking break!"

Did he look frightened? Worried? Damn, it was hard to say. His face didn't have any human expression – inebriation completely removed the remains of anything human from it.

"She wasn't wearing her school uniform. You knew she was a cute schoolgirl because you saw her close. It was when you pushed her down from the height, right?"

"Hey, calm fucking down!" the bum realized that he was too drunk to fight or escape. "I didn't kill that chick, I swear! Don't look at me like this, bro, I'm your friend, you know…"

"Then tell me how the fuck did you get to see her close."

"That was nothing special, man. She dropped down, and I came to ransack her pockets, you know. She was a goner for sure – a pool of fucking blood under her, man! She didn't need anything anymore."

"What did you take?"

"Shit, that bitch hadn't got anything on her!" having noticed my deprecating glaze, he hastened to apologize, "Uh, sorry, I mean, she just hadn't had any dough or any other useful stuff. Only her mobile, but it was broken, so those fuckers didn't want to buy it."

Gee, that guy'd got Asahina's mobile!

"Don't tell me you've thrown it away already, you piece of shit," not only surprised I was with the intimidating tone of mine – I was satisfied. That bum hadn't seen my gun, but he still was afraid of me. A day before I was cautious with him, now it was his turn to mind every word he said.

"Oh, man… fuck, I can bring it here, okay? I'm gonna bring it right now, bro, just a sec – "

"Hold on, you fag," it wasn't a reasonable thing to do from the point of hygiene, but I grabbed his shoulder. "I'll go with you. No way you're gonna leg it, got that?"

"Shit, no need to be that anxious, bro! It'd be okay, I give you no bullshit!" he sounded somehow plausible. I let go of his shoulder and nodded silently. So, we headed towards a shad the bum lived in. Was he really going to give me the phone? Or was it just a trap? Could it be that there was a weapon in his hideout, and he was going to use it? If I had to kill the bum there – what'd I have to do next?

As we entered the shad, I could sense a disgusting smell – well, that was quite expectable of a bum's dwelling. Rags, empty cans, torn wrappers – it didn' resemble a human's home in any way. What I saw was much more like a rat's hole, with heaps of rubbish in each corner. That place creeped me out. How could he end up living like that? Was he just a lazy loser? Or did something happen that'd left no choice for him?

"Okay, man, here's your fucking phone," mumbled the bum searching for something in a heap of almost homogenous trash near a shabby something which could probably serve as a mattress. "I mean, I'm looking for it right'fucking'now. It must be here, huh. That shitbag told me to go fuck myself, so, when I came back here, I just dropped it somewhere in the room…"

He seemed to be really looking for it. The phone really existed and was there?

"Hey, by the way, why the fuck didn't you dispose of an item you took from a corpse? Didn't you think of cops finding it in your… ehm, room?"

"I didn't, and I don't, and I'll never give a fucking fuck!" shit, didn't he seem somehow too aggressive? "Gimme a break, I was outta here for a couple of days – the cops weren't going to return. Why'd they come here again just for a lil' suicide chick? Nobody gives a fuck, man. So I have nothing to care about. That's my fucking territory, you know."

Shit, what did he want to say? Was it a foreword to attacking me? Suddenly, I became frightened, almost at panic.

Why was I that afraid of a drunken guy who couldn't even walk straight? Moreover, not just a drunken guy, but a drunken bum, a person whose body and personality had been almost destroyed by years of heavy drinking and semistarvation? "That's my fucking gun…" – Damn, did I really have the time to get it out of my pocket? What would I do?

"Yeah, man, my territory. A territory only for me and for my bro, man, for you," the bum awkwardly stood up. "Here, that's the fucking phone, I don't fucking mind if you take it," it was quite a plain model. Was it really Asahina's? I tried my best to recall what her mobile was like – but I couldn't. Maybe. I tried to turn it on – as expected, it didn't work.

"Did you remove the SIM card?"

"What?" the bum looked confused. "Do you mean stitches? What the fucking stitches are you talking about, bro?"

"Oh, I see," I could've guessed that guy had no idea of what a SIM card is. Anyway, it wasn't a problem to check it myself – the card was in the slot. Gee. If the cops found the body, and there was no mobile phone on it – given Ayano-san must've told them Asahina used to have one – why didn't they check the location of the card? That's not a problem nowadays. Did they really give no fuck?

Whatever. As I got the phone, I needed to check the calls and messages logs. How could I do it given the phone didn't work? I could insert the SIM into my mobile – but I didn't know the PIN code. And, anyway, the best I could get from a SIM card was the contact list – of course, if Asahina'd saved it to the SIM and not the phone memory. I've never seen a mobile which saved the logs to the SIM card.

So, I had to go to a repair shop and ask them if they could extract the information somehow. Was it possible at all? I hoped so.

"Hey, bro! Are you happy with your phone now?" I was outside the shed already. "Don't you mind having a drink more?"

Quickly leaving the site, I didn't answer anything. "Hope I'll never see you again, you prick," I thought.

* * *

I was standing outside a repair shop on the same street the far-right priest's temple was located. The process took short time and, fortunately, turned out to be quite cheap – and now I had a printout of Asahina's last calls and messages. Oh, well, I had to tell them she was my girlfriend and I suspected her of having an affair on the side, so I'd intentionally broken her phone and promised to have it repaired just to spy on her data. Actually, I didn't have to make that story up – nobody at the shop seemed to really care about anything.

So, I took a closer look at the list – names, phone numbers, dates, length of talk for calls and the texts for messages. By the way, Asahina almost didn't use SMS – most of her inbox texts were spam, and there were only a couple of sent texts, both more than three months ago, both to the Hashiba girl I'd met in the morning. That wasn't surprising as she claimed to be Asahina's best friend – best friend, huh… Nothing special, in the end.

As to calls, there were quite a lot – although the call records were kept on the log for a month only, so, given a week'd passed since the last record, I had a log for three weeks. I browsed through the printed list several times, looking for something suspicious. Well, I didn't actually know what should I think to be suspicious – frankly, I was thinking of multiple calls from somebody listed as "Miyamoto (asshole!) HATE HATE". But there wasn't anybody on her contact list whose name was Miyamoto.

There were some calls from Hashiba, some calls to her, some calls to the track and field club captain, some calls to some people I didn't know… Nothing suspicious, I guess – I couldn't point out any call for any reason. So, I decided to pay more attention to the last call – to a contact named "Sister". The call was made in the evening – presumably less than an hour before her death. That was bad I didn't know when she died exactly. The duration of the call was five minutes and fourteen seconds – not really short, not really long. Just an average mobile conversation.

Okay, so what had I got regarding Asahina? That was a suicide and there was a witness to it – the bum from the building site. According to him, she hadn't got any money or whatever else on her – only the phone. Could that be one more proof of that Asahina initially went there intending to die? Maybe. Why did she take the mobile with her? Most probably – just put it into the pocket automatically. Maybe – she wanted to call her sister before jumping down. The timing of the call supported that speculation.

Okay, if she really wanted to call her sister before committing suicide – for what, then? To say goodbye? Why to the sister only? Could Ayano-san know anything about that? Maybe – and maybe not. Most probably – not. The only person who could know what they were talking about for sure was Asahina's sister. It won't be difficult to ask Ayano-san from what town did Asahina come to the City and then find her sister's home address… even to call her and ask – why not?

Damn, stop! For what the hell would I do that? It was a suicide. It was almost obvious now that Miyamoto had nothing to do with it and that it had no connection with Yamato's death. I was looking for the motherfucker who killed my best friend, not for the reasons Asahina'd killed herself for. I shouldn't be carried away by that matter.

I was heading to the Asahiyu dormitories – it was already the time for the dyed blond hottie and her friend to return.

* * *

"I know, you're staring at my boobs," Ms Big Glasses, Megumi, was speaking thickly, her face red. "You all are always staring at them!"

"No, you got me wrong, I wasn't," In fact, I was staring right at her boobs indeed.

"Don't give me bullshit, I've caught your filthy glare!" she became even redder. When I came there, I didn't expect them to be drinking. All the more so, I didn't expect them to be that drunk already. Actually, that situation was in my favor – drunk people are easier to get talking, but all my attempts to divert the conversation from Megumi's boobs to Yamato were failed.

Damn, her boobs were really big. I bet they were firm and bouncing. And she didn't mind talking to me about that. Could I ever imagine myself trying to drop the subject in such situation? The world had gone crazy…

"Hey, Saotome-san, tell her I wasn't looking!"

The blondie girl was watching me and Megumi arguing. Now it was the time to draw her into the conversation.

"But you really were, you perv!" she laughed. "No, Megumi-chan, don't get this mad!" she even stood up. "Come on, you'd better have a sleep now."

"No! If this guy is so crazy about my boobs – okay, I'll let him see them!"Oh-oh, what was she going to do?

"Ah, what are you doing!" Saotome quickly moved to stand between me and Megumi, separating us. "Go to sleep!" She dragged her out of the room. Well, maybe she'd better had let her stay for a bit more… Damn, get a grip! I wasn't there for fun. I was looking for the bastard who killed my best friend. Jokes aside – it was a serious business.

"Sorry," Saotome returned in a couple of minutes. "She gets drunk too quickly and behaves weird," she got seated in front of me, on the opposite side of a small table. "Don't you really want a drink?"

"No, thanks," she didn't seem to be really drunk. Well, maybe it was for the better. "Do you know about Yamato?"

"Of course," her face clouded. "That's a terrible thing to happen. I'm really sorry, Yasunobu-kun."

"Thanks," I nodded. Damn, how to ask it properly? "That's my fucking…" – holy crap, no! "He was murdered, you know. I can't imagine who could do that."

"They say he was killed by some junkies – when they need a fix, they can do whatever to get the dough," she shrugged.

"Do you think so? Are there really that many junkies in the area?"

"I don't know. You think it was somebody else?"

"I don't know either. Yamato was… kind of avoiding me recently. Maybe there was something which'd got him into trouble."

"You think Yamato was the kind of guy to get into trouble?" she poured herself a glass of beer and again offered me some with a gesture – I gestured back, refusing.

"I think anybody can get into trouble. By the way, was there anything strange about Yamato recently?"

"What do you mean by strange?" Saotome squinted.

"Well… anything unusual. Irregular. I don't know, maybe he was going somewhere out late at night, of having unusual guests…:" She burst out laughing, leaving me no chance to end up. However, I didn't know how to end it up myself. "Why are you laughing?"

"You sound like a detective from a TV dorama, Yasunobu-kun," she winked. "No, nothing like that. He was just as usual – apart from being depressed… you know, about Asahina," now she became sad again. Was that the influence of alcohol? "The only one who's being strange now is Miho-chan – poor girl, she's in such a pain!" Saotome poured one more glass. Now she didn't offer any beer to me. "You know, she was very close to Yamato. Soon after he came here she even stopped to ask Megumi-chan to help her with her homework – she always did it with Yamato. I guess it must be terrible to lose a cousin you love so much…"

"You mean, Yamato spent a lot of time with Miho-chan?"

"Yes, she'd always come to his room in the evening." Well, there was nothing strange about it, but I felt…

"How do you think, Miho-chan is already asleep?"

"I don't think so – she must be cleaning up downstairs, at the baths. She and her mother have a lot of work to do."

"Okay, Saotome-san, I've got to go now," I stood up and headed to the door. "Tell Megumi I'm sorry for staring at her boobs."

"Hey, Yasunobu-kun," she sounded worried. "If you're going to ask Miho-chan some weird questions, you'd better give up on it. She's not in the mood for stuff like that."

"No problem, I'm not going to do anything weird," I tried to sound convincing.

"Hope so," she closed the door as I left.

To the baths, quickly! I needed to catch Miho right then, having no time to lose.

* * *

"Miho-chan! What happened?" She was sobbing seated on the tile floor. Her cries echoed in the empty hall. "Please, calm down," I got seated next to her. Damn, where they were?.. Aha, here – I offered her a tissue.

"Why did you come?" Her eyes were red. She still hadn't taken the tissue from my hand.

"I know it'd be hard for you, I'm so sorry – but I wanted to talk about Yamato-kun." Having heard his name, she burst into sobs again.

"What do you want to talk about? Please, leave me alone!"

"You know, something awful had happened – " Her reaction was abrupt: she suddenly stood up, her face twisted with unexpected fury.

"Yes, it'd fucking happened! Many times! He told you, right? You knew about it from the very beginning, didn't you? He was bragging about it, right?" she shouted out loud, her fists clenched. I thought she'd lash out on me. "Yes! Yes, he was fucking right! What do you want from me now? You want me to do to you the same for you not telling about it anybody else, right? I've noticed how you were looking at me before, when you were bothering my mom with your annoying visits, you moron!" She looked rabid, frantic, gone berserk – could she really have gone insane? What she was talking – better say shouting – about? "You want to hear my answer? It's 'NO'! Fuck off! I don't care about anything! Just leave me alone! LEAVE! ME! ALONE!" She dropped on the floor again. "Alo-one… fucking please," that was a faint moan.

"Eh… I've got no idea what you're talking about, Miho-chan," I was totally confused. Should I really leave her? Or should I be insistent? "I don't want anything from you, and I didn't mean anything bad from the very beginning. Ah… I'm really sorry if I bothered Ayano-san with coming here, but I really want to help. You know, Yamato…"

"Please, stop," she was covering her face with her hands. "I did it because he was so depressed, so… I don't know, but I was really afraid he'd do something bad to himself. I just wanted him to cheer up… I'd promised him in the childhood that if no girl wants to marry him, I'd become his wife…" Holy shit. What was that fucking about? Don't tell me… "It wasn't a rape. I did it for him. I asked him not to tell anybody – but he'd told you, right? I was afraid of it. I'm so scared now. If you really were Yamato's friend, please, leave me…"

My head was spinning, and I pinched myself hard – I still hoped it all was a dream. Yamato-kun, the nicest guy I've ever met, my best friend – had sex with his twelve years old cousin? What the fuck was going on? No – what the fuck'd been going on AROUND ME all the time I thought I was a normal high school guy, you know, like in a slice-of-life manga? Shit…

Yamato. Miyamoto's fuck boy. His own cousin's lover – no, his own underage cousin's lover. An illegal gun owner – by the way, as to this point, I was now in the same position. A murder victim. My best friend… Was I going crazy myself? What the fuck was I doing recently? Who the fuck was I going to find? For what did I hope, getting involved into all that stuff? I felt something switching in my head – maybe that was the moment I accepted the bizarre reality I'd always lived in.

What would a normal high school guy do in such a situation? Come on, who could expect me to be a normal high school guy after all of that?..

"When did it start?" I asked in a cold voice having gripped her hand hard.

"When… when Asahina rejected him for the first time," she looked frightened now. I must've been persuasive.

"Tell me! Fucking tell me how did it happen!" I shouted at her strengthening my grip – she must've felt pain.

"He was so frustrated! It was right after the new door was installed in the steam-room… I asked him what happened, he told Asahina didn't wan't to go out with him… and… and I offered him…"

"What fucking door are you talking about?" I loosened my grip a bit – I didn't want to leave bruises.

"The door to this steam-room," she pointed at a door. "Asahina fainted there and Yamato had to break the door down to save her."

"Did you see it?" I asked the questions abruptly, insistently, as if I was obsessed with the answers to them.

"No, there was nobody here, only Yamato and Asahina. He brought her upstairs and told us what happened."

"Why do you think Asahina died?"

"I don't know!"

"I don't fucking ask what do you know!" Her eyes widened as I shouted. "I ask what do you think!"

"I don't know!" she repeated helplessly. "But we – I and mother – found a pregnancy test in her room after it happened. It was positive. Mother didn't tell anybody about it – I think somebody from Asahina's family asked her to." Damn! I could almost see it in graphic. It was something like a revelation – all the elements of the mosaic got connected in my mind at once. I owed that tearful Miho a lot.

"What do you know of her family?"

"Nothing. Mother talked to them, not me. They live in Yokohama – that's all I know."

"I see." The idea which came to my mind made sense. "Did you notice anything strange about Yamato recently?"

"No," she was sobbing again. I had to grab her hand again to make her pay some attention to me and my question. "He was so cagey. He never talked to me really – I just came to his room to… you know," she burst into cries.

"I'm sorry for bringing up such painful memories, Miho-chan," I stood up. "I hope you will be better soon, and I think you should visit a therapist to cope with… the stress. Please don't tell anybody about our talk. If you do – I'll tell your mother what I've heard from you today." What was there in her eyes? Hatred? Maybe I glared in the same way at Miyamoto earlier that day. "Please. Let's forget about everything – for everyone's sake. I'm really sorry. Goodbye."

I had no other choice – the threat was the only means I could ensure the secrecy of our talk with, regardless of how much I hated it.

* * *

As I left the baths, blood was pusating in my head to the beat of thoughts rushing through my mind. I imagined it clearly: a hot, humid steam-room, Asahina lying on the berth, her naked body covered only with a towel and beads of sweat. She doesn't move – she must be unconscious. Yamato approaches her to bring her to life and take away from the room – and touches her shoulder, or maybe arm. It feels so good! He can see her breasts hardly covered by the towel – she wasn't expecting any guests.

Then his mind goes blank – he strips the towel off and gets on her. He's way too horny, so it doesn't take him long time – maybe even less than a minute. He doesn't care about anything. He seizes on the moment, uses his chance – he knows it might be his only one. After that he covers her with the towel again and brings her upstairs – a young hero who just has saved a girl's life.

A couple of weeks later Asahina feels strange. What could that be, she wonders. He goes to the school infirmary. He checks up on a medical handbook, maybe. Maybe she thinks it'd end soon by itself – it doesn't. Finally, she comes to think of… Holy crap, how could that happen – she asks herself. No way. That's ridiculous. But she cannot get rid of the thought – maybe it's intuition?

She buys a pregnancy test – and it shows positive. That must've been a mistake – she tells herself, and buys a new one, of another brand – positive again! Coincidence? Okay, let's have a third try – so, it's… positive again? How… how could that be? Three times in a row – there can't be a mistake. How could she get pregnant? Asahina comes to think of it – and realizes she was raped by Yamato when she was unconscious.

She cannot overcome the disgrace. She's broken. One day she goes after school to the abandoned building site – she's spotted it since she came to the City. But, before finishing her life, she calls her sister – and tells her everything. Onee-chan, I was raped by Akitsuki Yamato, my neighbor and classmate. I got pregnant. Sorry for everything. She jumps down, leaving her sister alone with the beeps on the telephone line.

As her sister becomes aware of Asahina's death, she tries her best to cover the disgraceful story – to protect Suzuka's good memory. And does her best to avenge her sister – she pays somebody to kill Yamato. Maybe she threatens him before that – and he buys a gun to protect himself. He has some real reasons to be afraid. But – finally, he gets killed. How did that happen?

Asahina's sister must've known the best.

That was my version. Now I needed to find Asahina's family address and talk to her elder sister – she must've been the elder one, of course, if she managed to hire a hitman. Tomorrow – I had no time to lose.

"Hey, Yasunobu-kun!" Saotome's angry voice pulled me out of my daydreaming. "Were you really talking to Miho-chan? Damn, are you really nuts?!"

* * *

Everybody was already asleep when I came back home. I sneaked into my room, silently got undressed and stretched out on the bed. I didn't feel sleepy at all, but I realized I needed to have a rest – my train to Yokohama was early in the morning. Thanks to Saotome, now I knew where to go – she helped me to find Asahina family's address and the train timetable. I had to explain her what I was doing – in part only. I didn't tell her about the gun, of course. And I didn't tell her about Miho and Yamato – as promised.

But I had to share with her my version of Yamato's ordered murder. What could I do? She was mad, she shouted at me threatening to tell Ayano-san about me bothering Miho and making her cry. The atmosphere was way too hysterical to risk – who knows, what could Miho say in the state she was in? She could probably accuse me of raping her or whatever. So I had no choice but to explain Saotome that Yamato raped Asahina and she could've probably told about that her elder sister who could've probably hired somebody to take vengeance on him.

She didn't believe me first, but finally she'd realized I wasn't joking or playing games. Well, maybe it was for the better I introduced my affairs to her – she promised to help me in any possible way. So enraged she was!

"Saotome-san, why are you on Yamato's side? I expected you to sympathize with the raped girl," I couldn't understand her at first.

"I do sympathize with her, you jerk!" she replied abruptly. "But I don't sympathize with a murderer."

"Don't you think it was right to kill Yamato?" I asked. It was, actually. Asahina's sister did the right thing – if Yamato wasn't my best friend, I'd only approve of her.

"Are you fucking crazy? How can it be right to kill people?" Saotome looked furious. "He was your best friend, after all!"

"Well, that's another matter. It has nothing to do with killing him being right or wrong."

"Oh really? So you aren't going to denounce her to the cops?"

"No, of course." She seemed to be ready to kill me at once. "But not because I'm not going to avenge Yamato. I just've got no evidence, you know. If I tell cops she killed Yamato, they'd tell me to go fuck myself, because I cannot prove it right now."

"So what're you going to do?" she looked confused. That way I liked her more.

"I'm going to pay a visit to that bitch. And tell her I know everything. I want to make her panic, to threaten me, to curse me, to shout 'I'll kill you like I've killed your fucking pal!' I hope an audio record of that stuff will be enough."

"But that's dangerous. Don't you think she can kill you too, if she's that brutal?"

"No, I don't," I smirked. - "That's my fucking gun, Onee-san. And I'm gonna fucking use it." – Of course, I didn't say that aloud.

"You're nuts," she sighed, still unaware of why I was that confident. "If you die, I won't feel sorry for you."

"Okay," I shrugged. "I don't ask you to. Just don't get in my way, allright?"

"I'll help you find the address. If you don't return by tomorrow's evening, I'll call the cops."

"Um… thanks," I felt kind of embarrassed. Why did she help me? Damn, I hadn't got the balls to ask. I just let it be like it was.

Yamato was a jerk. He raped Asahina, he fucked his little cousin. He wanted to join Miyamoto gang but was made their fuck boy. Why the fuck would I revenge for that asshole? Didn't he deserve that all? But…

I remembered the Yamato… no, not of my childhood. The Yamato of the end of the summer. The Yamato I used to know before all that'd happened. I remembered my best friend. I felt that if I avenge him, if I find and punish his murderer, he'll be back. No, not alive, of course. His memory. He'll become my best friend again – not the ugly scum who served Miyamoto with his ass and molested his aunt's little daughter.

What was I going to do with Asahina Suzune – the sister? I didn't really believe in the plan I described to Saotome – it was too easy to be possible. How I expected her to react to my accusations? What was the possibility of her losing control? I guessed it was very low. She'd just tell me something like: "You're crazy. If you don't leave me, I'll call the police". And I'd have to leave.

I was going to Yokohama. But I had no idea what for. Why I was doing that all? Did I really believe I'd be able to find the culprit? Or was my layman investigation just a way of… of what?

I reached my mobile to check the time – it must've been past 2 a.m. It didn't work. Why the… It took me a couple of seconds to realize that the mobile in my hand was Asahina's one.

* * *

It proved to be surprisingly easy to get on a bullet train with a gun. It proved to be surprisingly quick to get to Yokohama. Moreover, it proved surprisingly simply to find Asahina residence. Was I lucky? Was that a good sign?

I stood before the door, hesitant. What I was to do? I needed to ask her somewhere out of the house – how? I hadn't got a clear idea. Just ask her to take a walk with me, pretending to be her sister's friend? She might refuse to. If there was no one at the house except her, it'd be easier. I hoped she was alone. Oh, shit – there was a probability she wasn't home at all, although it was Sunday morning. I should have called her before getting on the train and make sure I'd catch her.

Ah, whatever – it was too late to think of stuff like that. I rang the doorbell. Was the time I'd waited for too long? Did it mean that no one'd open? Or was I just too impatient? Well…

"Who's there?" a young female voice came from behind the door. Damn, that had to be the chick I needed!

" Hello, I'm…" at the last moment I realized that telling my true name wasn't a good idea. Huh, why not?.. "I'm Miyamoto Soichi, I came here to express my condolence…" I felt weirdly amused by using that asshole's name.

"Oh, you must be Suzuka-chan's classmate!" The door got opened. I couldn't say whether the girl behind it was sexy or not – the only details I could pay any attention to were her being not much older than me and her semblance of Suzuka. There could be no mistake. "She told me a lot about you before. Please, come in."

I came. It was a nice house, not just a reach one – it was really cozy, I could feel it right from the threshold. As we walked into a small lounge, I could notice some photos on the walls – the people who lived there seemed to be nice. Maybe the atmosphere of the house was what they call "family comfort"?

I had no time to think about it anyway. It was the enemy's territory, and I came there with a hostile intent. Thinking soberly, it was good for me the house was so peaceful and comfortable – maybe nobody would be ready for attack in a place like that.

"Sorry for coming snap, I guess I've caused inconvenience for you and your family members…" I tried to sound apologetically.

"Oh, no, Soichi-kun, there's no problem. I'm alone here anyway," I hardly suppressed a smile. That was the aswer I waited for. From that moment, it became much easier. "Thank you for sympathizing with us. You know, now it's a very hard time for our family," she looked so sad – at that moment I really wanted to say something comforting to her. But there was no room for any comforting words. The matter at hand was how to make her confess in ordering Yamato's murder. "I think you understand how I feel now."

"I do," an awkward pause followed. What I was to do? Continue playing sympathy? Get down to the business? If the latter – how, in what way? Damn – I finally noticed how disarmingly cute Suzune's face was. She seemed to be a really nice person. And she could be understood – that bastard Yamato'd raped her sister which resulted in her suicide. But I needed to do that – for the Yamato who was my best friend.

"Suzune-san," as her lips moved to say something to break the silence, I started talking proactively. "I know Suzuka-chan'd called you right before she died. And I know you were talking for about five minutes. Please, tell me what you talked about. What did she tell you?"

"Oh… how did you know that, Soichi-kun?" she looked surprised, her eyes widened. "I thought I told about that to the police only." To the police? Wait!.. Huh, no – that was quite obvious that the cops'd check the mobile operator's call database, so there'd been no use hiding that fact from them.

"The detective who was questioning me told that,"my answer was stupid, but I didn't care. No way would I tell her any truth about me or what I'd ever done. "Please, tell me what she said. It's really important."

"You're being strange, Soichi-kun," she looked surprised, not confused and not agitated as I expected. "But, uh… well, I guess it's okay if you want to know what her last words were." Gee. Was she ready for that question? I underestimated her. "She asked me to bring some incense to Tsuda-kun's grave on Sunday and told she wouldn't come herself. I didn't notice anything strange as I thought she had an extra workout, so I promised to do what she asked me for. Then she thanked me, asked me to say hello to our parents and," I could hear tears in her voice, "said goodbye. That was our last talk."

"Did she tell you anything else?" Of course, she made up that story when being questioned by the police, so it wasn't hard to tell it once again.

"No, nothing else. You see, she still loved Tsuda-kun – she thought about him even at a moment like that…"

"Who is… was Tsuda?" I asked that a bit too abruptly – Suzune shuddered.

"Oh my god!" She looked at me almost with terror in her eyes. "It's not the right time to make jokes, Soichi-kun!'

"I'm not joking," I felt like losing my patience. She played really well, but I wasn't that easy to cheat on. "This name doesn't tell me anything, Suzune-san."

"Soichi-kun…" her posture became tense. "Don't you remember your best middle school friend? You were in the same class and in the same track and field club… He died in an accident. Don't you really remember him?" Now she looked really strange: frightened, surprised… suspicious? Could she've guessed I wasn't the real Miyamoto? Shit. I failed that easily. Why the fuck did I choose Miyamoto as my undercover identity? Whatever. It didn't matter anymore.

"Yeah, I do, Suzune-san," I stood up. I felt like a sleepwalker, I could hardly control myself. "Do you know why I asked you that? Ah? Because I don't fucking believe the bullshit you give me!" My voice was cold and I didn't shout. But it creeped out even myself. "Stop it. I know what she really told you. You were talking about Akitsuki Yamato, right?"

"Soichi-kun…" she was looking up on at me, her face pale. "I don't know this name. I've never heard it. Please, calm down…"

"No, I won't. You tell me lies, and that's obvious. Your sister told you about Akitsuki Yamato – yes, that's right, Akitsuki Yamato – and you decided to kill him. Your family is rich, isn't it? You've got enough money to hire some thug from the streets…"

"Shut up!" She suddenly jumped up from the coach and shouted at me. "I don't know what you mean, you fucking creep! My sister died, I feel so terrible now! And you come here to take the piss! Go away!" she gestured towards the door. "Get the fuck out of here and never return, you moron!" Tears were running down her cheeks, her face red and angry.

Damn bitch was a good actress. She played dumb almost perfectly – an average dorama-goer would believe her for sure. But I didn't. She was hell of a smart-ass, but I had a decisive argument. I had a smarter thing in my pocket, a thing which no one could fool. It seemed like it jumped into my hand on its own.

"Seat down and listen up, you whore," I ordered pointing the gun at her. A strange pleasure spread over my brain as she obeyed. "That's my fucking gun, and I'm gonna fucking use it, if you don't tell me the truth," I'd finally pronounced my mantra. "What the fuck did your sister fucking tell you over the phone before she died?"

"I've t-told you already," Suzune was shivering, stuttering and sobbing. "She asked me to visit Tsuda's grave. She didn't tell me anything about that Amatsuki guy…"

"Akitsuki, you bitch! And she told you! Told you!" I leaned towards her, shouting, the barrel almost touching her face. "You killed Yamato!"

"No-o-o!" Her face was twisted in a grimace of terror and desperation, her voice resembling an animal's moan. She wasn't cute anymore – pain is never cute – but watching her was… strangely pleasant. Fuck… "Please! I didn't kill anybody, I didn't kill that Akitsuki! Please, leave me!" she was looking straight into my eyes. Was she lying or not? At that very moment I had to admit it – I had no skill of detecting lies. In fact, all my previous judgments were based on my preconceptions and paranoia only. And the fact it worked with Miho didn't mean it'd work with anybody else.

" So… she called you only to ask about Tsuda's grave?"

"Yes! She didn't tell me anything else! I've never heard that name – Akitsuki Yamato." Suzune's body was trembling, her voice was trembling, it seemed the whole room was trembling around me. And only the short black barrel was still, pointed at her face. She cried just like Ayano-san or Miho-chan did. Just like my mother did when grandma died. "She never told me about any guys except Tsuda-kun. She was in love with him, and she thought of him as of her boyfriend, you know… although he died. I couldn't imagine her going out with anybody else…"

"Then how can you comment on her pregnancy?" No, she had to be acting. What a bullshit – Tsuda, love, no other guys… She'd known her sister was pregnant.

"I don't know!" she cried. "I think… I'm afraid… shit…"

"Go on," I said in a cold voice with long intervals between the two short words.

"She was raped," she dropped her eyes. "Somebody molested her, and she committed suicide. You're going to avenge her, right? You want to find the rapist? I don't know about it. If I knew – I'd tell to the police! I know you loved my sister, right? That's why you behave so crazy now." Holy shit! Why did she get on my side despite what I was doing? Was it a deliberate trick? Or was I really…

"You came to know of her pregnancy only after her death?"

"Yes. Parents were told of the pregnancy test in her room. And the autopsy confirmed she was pregnant," her eyes red, her cheeks wet with tears.

"Had she ever told you of Akitsuki Yamato?"

"No! I swear! She hadn't ever mentioned any guy. Please! I don't tell you lie. Just leave me. If you're after my sister's molester, I can't help you. I'd like to – but I don't know anything. I won't tell anything about you coming today, or your gun, or whatever else. I wish you good luck, I want my sister avenged too! Please!"

I stood there, my head empty. What was that chick saying? Was it Stockholm syndrome? Or… was the girl really that kind to think I had a good and just purpose on my mind? Shit, what I'd done…

"Okay, I believe you," I put down the barrel. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'll go now," I didn't know what else to say. I was sure she'd call the cops as soon as I leave the room. "I didn't want that, you know. You've just left me no choice…" I was justifying my lunatic actions.

"I know, I get you," she looked up at me, like a puppy. "I won't tell anybody. Please, just promise me…" I was looking at her, waiting for her to say. "Promise me you'll find that moron."

"I promise," It felt like somebody other than me told that. "Sorry again," I rushed out of the house and ran, ran, ran… The promise I gave was a fake one – that moron was already dead. And he was the person I wanted to avenge. As I finally got exhausted and stopped by some leafless shrub, I realized I was lost my way back to the train station. And to the normal life as well.

* * *

I returned to the City in the evening, at the sunset. I didn't stray on the unfamiliar streets for really long – it took me that much to get back because I went by bus. I was afraid that Suzune'd called the cops and they'd blocked the train station already. Heading back home, my thoughts were black. The day was lost abortively – and could've probably caused a lot of trouble for me. It wouldn't take long to find out I wasn't Miyamoto – we looked too different. And it wouldn't be really difficult to find me after that…

Damn, how could my perfect version break into pieces that easily? Or was I just tricked by the smart-ass bitch?.. No – too paranoid. At a certain point I turned from the way home abruptly – now I was heading to the abandoned building site. The leaden sky had already become dark-blue, and the unfinished building was a black monolith, a huge tombstone or a doorway into the eternal abyss. Well, in some way it was really both – at least, for Asahina.

I climbed the concrete steps in almost complete darkness, the only source of light being the display of my mobile. The wind howled in the pillars – the only sound inside the huge lump of darkness. As I reached quite a high floor, I approached the edge slowly, about a meter remaining before me. The City looked like the night sky outside of it – darkness spangled with small lights. Did Asahina think of the same when she stood there, before that finish line separating life and death? Hardly. I breathed the chilly air deeply, the piercing wind in my hair.

Earlier in the morning I promised to avenge Asahina. Of course, I couldn't do that – her molester was already dead, there was nobody to take vengeance on. Could such a promise count as a valid one? And would Asahina like to be avenged? That was a strange question to come into my mind – really, why it's always presumed that the victim wanted to be avenged? Who actually needs the revenge – the dead or the living?

As I stepped on the stairs to get down, I heard a strange sound behind me. I pricked up my ears – there could be no mistake. I heard steps right behind my back. Steps heading to the edge.

I managed to stop only outside the building, at the dark site, panting and sweating. I took the gun out with my shaking hands and took a close look at it: "That's my fucking gun, and I'm gonna…" Then I looked up at the floor I'd gone to – it was too dark to see anything at all.

* * *

"Hey, Yas-sunobu," father muttered. He was drunk as usual. "I wanna talk."

"No," I answered. "I'm tired and want to sleep."

"I know, I know it, son…" he sighed. "I know you're into a serious business. Yes, I'm not that stupid, I can see it. I knew it from the very beginning – my son will be a serious man! Yes, you're a smart boy. You won't get to the prison and end up being a loser like me…"

I just passed by to my room. If that wasn't my father's usual "talk" which he'd been always addressing to me since I was ten, I'd think he'd found something out. In the room, I dialed up Saotome's mobile to tell her I was okay – she didn't answer. I tried again, but it was the same. Ah, whatever.

I fell asleep almost sure that the next day I'd be arrested for assaulting Suzune. The gun was still in the pocket of my jacket which I left on the chair.

* * *

I was woken up in the night by a strange sound. It wasn't loud enough to come outside my room, although. It was an electric sound, a ringtone, probably – but it wasn't my ringtone. Could mother've left her mobile in my room? No, she always used it as an alarm and thus kept it by her bed. Father? He hadn't got a mobile at all. The ringtone stopped for a moment and started again – the melody was being replayed.

Could my mobile change a ringtone automatically or due to some error? Technically, yes. But there was no ringtone I heard on it – it was a popular song which had to be downloaded on the phone, and I'd never downloaded any. Damn, the ringtone wouldn't stop. There were only two mobiles at my home – mine and my mother's, and neither of them could play that ringtone… No. There was one more phone. But it was broken and most probably discharged – how could it receive an incoming call, I asked myself.

An call incoming from whom? From where?.. In the dark of the night those thoughts caused goosebumps on my skin.

It seemed that the sound became a bit louder. I screwed up my eyes and covered my head with the blanket. It couldn't be playing forever. I had to stop sooner or later. It… It was hard to distinguish the moment I fell asleep again from the moment I woke up.

* * *

It was so stupid – going to the school with a gun in my bag. What for did I take it? It'd be way too ridiculous to admit that I took it along with me to fight the cops when they come to arrest me – I had no chances anyway. In fact, I needed to stay home for that day, or better for the whole week, to lay low for the time being. But I went there with a gun in my schoolbag and ten rounds in my pocket. I was like some American go-postal guy – but not dangerous at all, only stupid and ridiculous.

So, I reached the classroom, and there were no cops around. By the way, how are the cops supposed to actually arrest me? Just rush into the classroom, grab and drag me out of it? Or would they just ask me to come along for a couple of questions and suddenly handcuff me? Having given it a little more thought, I concluded, that, before arresting me, they had to check Miyamoto as the principal suspect. And then, having found out that it wasn't him, they'd have to track me down somehow – that also wasn't that easy, to think a little. Thus, I had a plenty of time before my arrest – if somebody was going to arrest me at all, huh.

As the class started, my mobile rang loudly – there was Saotome's number on the display. I rushed out of the classroom, into an empty corridor with the leaden sky in big windows.

"You fucking bastard!" I couldn't recognize her voice at first – she was screaming like insane. "Do you know what'd happened to her? She… I don't know! She can't even talk, you piece of shit…" Was she sobbing? What the fuck happened?!

"Hey, Saotome-san! What's going on?" I was almost shouting myself.

"They… Damn, Megumi-chan, that fuckers… Shit, why don't you get me? We just wanted to check out on the crap you gave me yesterday, so we went to meet that damn Miyamoto! I don't know what to do now!" She was so hysterical. Shit, I had a guess…

"Damn, don't tell me they did something to…"

"Yes! Yes, they fucking did that! It happened yesterday, and she came only today in the morning, she can't even talk, she's shocked, I… I just…"

"What happened to you?"

"I ran away yesterday, we ran in different directions, I thought Megumi-chan too… I was waiting for her all the night, called her mobile about a hundred times, then fell asleep and…"

"Damn! Take her to the hospital!"

"She won't go anywhere! I don't know what to do! She won't let me call the police, I'm so afraid now…" Shit. That was quite expectable – violently shocked rape victims are rarely eager to tell anybody about what happened, to the police especially.

"Just stay with her, okay? Please, look after her, she can… well, do something weird. Just stay there, okay?"

"Damn, do you get what've happened? You're fucking asshole, what did you drag us into?.. "

"I'll come today, please, stay with Megumi-chan!" I hung up. No way could I go on with that talk. Megumi got raped by Miyamoto gang. Why the fuck did the girls mess with those jerks? Why the fuck did they… Yes, that could be the truth. They mentioned my name. That's why they were attacked – it was a punishment for me being too annoying.

Sitting on a broad windowsill, I couldn't help but cry, leaning my forehead against the cold glass. That was too much for me. Megumi-chan – a nice, kind and extremely shy, when not too drunk, girl – got raped because of me. That was my fault. Blame and humiliation at the same time – that's what I felt at that moment. I'd never felt that helpless, that useless, that awful. How would I look into Megumi's eyes after that?

I could forgive myself for failing to save Yamato – he was hiding his second life really well. I could forgive myself for behaving like a prick with Miho – that was the only way to learn the truth. I could forgive myself for attacking Suzune – the end justified the means. I could forgive myself for giving a false promise to avenge Suzuka – that was a white lie, after all. But I could never forgive myself for a life which was broken down because of my mistakes. In all fairness, Yamato deserved his fate. Megumi – didn't. She was absolutely innocent.

Now that was my duty – to get rid of those morons. It was my fault, and it was me to deal with it. No matter if I'd get caught after killing Miyamoto and his fags – the revenge for Megumi was above the revenge for Yamato. It wasn't only a duty – it was the only way to atone for my own recklessness.

After all, I'd taken the gun along opportunely.

* * *

Wait for the track and field practice coming to an end. Wait for Miyamoto at the school gate. Kill him there and then. No matter what'd happen next. I was seething with rage. I was almost insane. Yes, here it was – my fucking gun! And it was high time to fucking use it. Wait. Wait. Shoot. Kill. Make sure the fag's dead. Kill. Kill. Kill. After all, I was going to become an actual postal.

I didn't notice when the class ended. I went into the corridor on my padded feet. As I was looking into the morbid sky with dark-grey clouds being moved fastly by the wind, I felt extremely uneasy. Something was bothering me – a person whose life was going to end in a couple of hours – at the subconscious level. What could that be? Holy crap – I rushed back into the classroom to check my desk. To my awe, there really was a scribbing on it which I hadn't paid attention at first: "Asahina Suzuka. Kazuki Tsuda". Above the names there was a housetop with a heart.

How the fuck could that be? Who the fuck did it? Asahina herself, when she still was alive? But why? Tsuda was already dead. And how did it happen to be on my desk? Could it be that I hadn't noticed it before? Or that the desk'd been replaced? Holy shit.

My phone rang suddenly.

"Yes," I didn't know that number.

"Listen up, Hattori. They hang around at Furuta Alley," I recognized that voice – the last time I heard it, she convinced me of staying close from Miyamoto. "You can find them there, today as well. Come when you please, but they'd be there for sure after six p.m. I know about yesterday. Hope you're really dangerous."

"Thanks, Hashiba. I am," I hung up. Was it a trap? Whatever. There was little probability of those fuckers having a guess about my gun. Furuta Alley was a secluded place – anyway better than the school gate area. It seemed my tragic end had been postponed a bit.

* * *

I didn't notice the exact moment when the stoic composure came upon me, but when the classes ended, I decided not to act in haste and first drop by home – to change and have a dinner. It was still enough time before 6 p.m., moreover, the later I'd come, the more drunk, or stoned, or otherwise intoxicated – and thus helpless – those bastards would be. Oh, by the way – they said Miyamoto never drunk or took drugs, he didn't even smoke. But that didn't matter anyway.

So I acted leisurely, taking my time. It could possibly be my last day, so I wanted to spend it decently. After having a hearty dinner, I watched TV for half an hour. There wasn't anything interesting on it, but I liked the feeling of seating on a coach and watching TV itself. After that, I cleaned my teeth thoroughly and took a shower. A strange fact, but some historical chronicles report of a Sengoku era warlord who put incense into his helm for his head not to stink, should it be severed and taken by his enemies as a trophy. Oh, damn. He really ended up like that.

As I was putting my gun – my fucking gun I was going to fucking use, huh – into the inner pocket of my jacket, I felt something in it. Surprised, I took it out – what could that be? I specially kept that pocket empty for my gun. Chill ran down my spine as I looked at the item in my hand – how the fuck could a pregnancy test has got into my pocket? It was a new one, its packaging being intact. I closed my eyes and opened them again – the test hadn't disappeared. I put it on my desk, walked out of my room, into a poky corridor, and then came back – it was still there. That had to be a hallucination!

In panic, I grabbed the damned test and threw it out of the window. There was no pregnancy test in my pocket. There couldn't be any pregnancy test in my pocket, no way – so there wasn't. To calm down, I got my gun – having it in my hand made me feel safer. I needed to forget about the test. Yes, just take a deep breath… No, I couldn't. Then I had to think logically over it. How could it really had got into my pocket? There was only one way – if somebody put my jacket on to go to a store and buy the test. Only two people could do it – either my father or my mother. But for what?

Shit. Could mother had got pregnant? That'd be bad news. Whatever. I had more important things to think of. I was leaving for a fight. No – for a murder.

* * *

They were at the place, about a dozen of bastards. I had only five rounds in my gun, so I couldn't kill them all – but I didn't think I'd need. My aim was Miyamoto, who was standing there, talking to that bastard Kobayakawa. I approached them slowly, tense and agitated. The closer I got, the less sure I became of my ability to get the gun quickly, so I just got it out of the pocket without hurrying as I was more or less close to them. A couple of guys noticed it, and I saw the terror in their eyes. I shook my head slightly – crying out wasn't a good idea, you scum. But they weren't going to, it seemed.

"Hey, Miyamoto!" I pointed the gun at the bastard. He slowly turned to face me, and I had a triumphant feeling as his eyes got wider than his lenses. – Freeze! – I shouted as I detected somebody moving with a corner of my eye."Yesterday you raped a girl with big glasses and big boobs. You shouldn't have done it, you fags."

"Come on, Hattori-san," Miyamoto addressed me in a trembling voice. However, it still was impressive how she managed to recall my name and speak out – that moron'd got a pair of balls, I had to admit. "We can settle it peacefully, if you put your gun down. I can offer you…"

"Shut the fuck up!" I shrieked. My index finger had already started moving, but right at that moment Kobayakawa moved too – quickly, abruptly…

My hands moved on their own, and the sound of the shot was deafening. Strangely, I barely felt the recoil, although I expected it to be hard. Kobayakawa just tumbled on the cracky asphalt, like a target at a shooting range, like a ragdoll. A tinnitus I heard muted the sound of many legs running away as fast as they could, but I didn't care – Miyamoto and two more unlucky bastards were still before me.

Could anybody hear the shot? Quite probably – despite the alley was secluded, it was still in the City. But would anybody really care even if they heard? Anyway – I didn't care at that moment.

"Please, Hattori!" Miyamoto cried. "What do you want? You want revenge for the girl? What will it give you, man? Is it necessary to kill me? Listen, Hattori, I can offer you something better…"

"You raped Yamato-kun, you shitbag. And you raped Megumi-chan," I told gloomily in a cold voice.

"Hattori-san!" – Miyamoto pleaded. "I can help you with finding the fuck b… Yamato's murder! And I can pay money to Megumi-chan! Please, belive me – the money'd be better for her than my death she won't probably even know about!"

"You're gonna die anyway," I grinned.

"We can run the business together! We deal in drugs, and we can pay you for protecting us – we've always needed a tough guy with a gun! Come on, we'll dispose of Kobayakawa's body, nobody will find! What's better for you – to go to prison, or to run a business, find your friend's murder and really – do you hear me? – really help poor Megumi? I'll pay her the money, I'm really sorry for what we've done to her!

Was the bastard lying? Most probably, I thought. Was I optimistic with my future prospects after killing the scum? No, I wasn't. Would having Miyamoto gang under my control help me in my investigation? A lot. Would Megumi-chan despise me for it? Damn, I didn't care about her anymore. But still, Miyamoto was really right – the money'd be of much more help to her than Miyamoto's death report on the news she want even watch. She'd need a therapist treatment course. She'd need to go on a trip to relax and forget about the bad things. She'd need whatever else a person could need – that'd be a fair compensation. But…

He was most probably lying. I couldn't trust the moron. What could I do to make sure he wouldn't betray? There was only one possible way.

"Hey, Miyamtoto." He looked at me loyally. "Have you got a knife?" He nodded. "Take it out and stab this shit a couple of times," I nodded at Kobayakawa, who was still twitching on the asphalt, too close to death to really care about us negotiating his life. "Aim at the neck and the sctomach."

Looking at Miyamoto doing what I'd commanded, I couldn't help but admire his composure – he did it promptly and unhesitantly, like a killing machine. I had to admit it – Miyamoto had got much bigger balls than me – I was shivering hectically, my hair wet with cold sweat.

"Okay, Hattori-san, now we're bloodbound," he stood up showing me the bloodstained knife. "Is it a deal?"

"It is," I nodded. "But don't try to do any stupid things – I'll watch you disposing of this crap to make sure you aren't going to fuck with me."

Miyamoto just nodded and smiled politely, like a good boy. His eyes were colder than the lenses covering them.

* * *

The school track was a strange place to talk, but, at least, there was nobody to eavesdrop – our voices were alone in the wilderness under the gloomy lowering sky, and even the chilly wind couldn't get any of them to any unwanted ears. We stood right in the middle of the field, side by side, both looking into the sky. I couldn't say whether we were friends or enemies, but it was the most surrealistic situation in my life – standing in the field with Miyamoto after having disposed of Kobayakawa's body in Furuta Alley.

Would he tell me the truth or would he give me a total bullshit? I didn't know, and I didn't know a way to check whatever he'd tell me. Of course, I'd warned him that if I failed I'd tell about Kobayakawa to the cops – but did it really matter? I was going to treat what he'd tell as truth, whatever it'd cost me.

"Regarding Yamato," Miyamoto started. "I don't know who killed him, once again. But I can tell you something which I think he had something to do with. Some time ago, the dealer we work for gave us a big lot of some new drug to sell it out in the district."

"The dealer you work for?" I specified.

"Hey, did you think we work on our own?" Miyamoto frowned. "We're not that serious. Yes, there's a guy, you maybe even know about him – he was involved in a scandal around some far-right extremists a year ago." I shook my head. "Okay, anyway. So, the new drug. He didn't even know himself what the effect of that drug was, but he told us to sell it at a high price, as he'd already spread a rumor about its extra qualities. But we didn't manage to sell any – it was stolen right after we'd got it. I didn't suspect Yamato at all back then, but now, as I come to think of it, given the gun you've got at his room, I think it was most probably he who did it. Well, don't get me wrong, but I think it was a very stupid and inconsiderate decision of his. And he had to spend a lot of money on that gun – it's not that easy to get one… Anyway, if he was killed, he was killed because of the drug, most probably, trying to sell it to somebody."

"But don't you think it was strange – to go to a potential customer and leave his gun at home?" I asked Miyamoto. He'd definitely got more experience in that stuff than me.

"Sure, that was strange," Miyamoto nodded. "And it allows me suggest another option: he was killed by somebody he'd already considered his partner. Maybe he had an accomplice, but I once again have no idea who could that be. Not one of my guys for sure – I've already checked everyone while I was looking for the thief."

"What do you think of Hashiba Miki?"

"Hashiba?" Miyamoto chuckled. "No way. First, she wasn't on really good terms with Yamato. Second, she close of the business, she was afraid of us. Third, she has a strong alibi for the day of murder – I saw her practicing early in the morning myself."

A new, mysterious and expensive type of drug. Yes, that could be the reason. Yamato was desperate about getting involved into some serious business, and it was his chance. Quite probably, when he'd got the drug, somebody else considered Yamato to be his chance, in his turn. It needed more contemplation. What else could I ask?

"What do you think of Asahina, the girl who committed suicide?" I asked abruptly.

"Well, she was kind of my childhood pal," Miyamoto shrugged. "We used to go to the same middle school,"he explained as I stood there astonished. "I remember she was in love with a guy called Kazuki Tsuda who died in an accident, the only person I could ever call a true friend of mine. Suzuka-chan was very depressed after that. I was too, and not only for losing a friend – I was really sorry for Asahina, as I thought they were really a good match," Miyamoto paused for a while. Could I ever imagine that cold bastard being that sentimental? "Well… we used to workout together a lot, and I even came a couple of times to her house. She has an older sister, Suzune, if I'm not mistaken." Shure, that asshole'd got a good memory for names! "But since Tsuda's death Asahina hasn't talked to me…"

"What? Did you meet Suzune?" My eyes were getting wider and wider.

"A couple of times," he answered casually, either ignoring ot not noticing my surprise. "She was very nice to me. I remember, she advised me once to wear contact lenses instead of my glasses."

My head was spinning. If Suzune knew how the real Miyamoto looked like… then what the fuck was going there, at her house? Why did she let me in? Why did she call me Miyamoto? What the hell did it all mean?

Suddenly, I felt somebody watching us.

"Hey, what's up?" asked Miyamoto as I was looking around us, seeing nobody.

"Nothing," I shook my head. Paranoia… "Why didn't you start wearing lenses, by the way?"

"Who said I didn't? I started – but finished soon."

* * *

"Saotome-san? That's me, Hattori." She opened the door letting me in. Saotome was apparently drunk, and I could tell that without even seeing the empty bottles under the low table. Her room closely resembled Yamato's – the layout was absolutely the same. "How's Megumi-san doing?"

"She's asleep now," Saotome replied dejectedly. "We had a drink together, and she was crying all the way. Crying, and crying, and crying. Frankly, I made her get drunk to make sure she won't do anything stupid to herself."

"I see. We'd better let her sleep, then." Saotome nodded sullenly. "You know, I… had a talk with that fucker Miyamoto today, and he apologized. At first, I wanted to make him stand on his knees before her, but then… Well, he'll pay her money regularly, from his drug dealing incomes. Uh… here's the first sum," I took the money out of the pocket and handed in to Saotome awkwardly. "You know, I think you'd better give it to Megumi-san yourself and… uh, I think you'd explain everything to her better than I."

"I guess so," Saotome counted the money slowly, then put it into a drawer. "Hey, Yasunobu. Did you really make Miyamoto give it to you? Or is it your money you give as a charity, ah?"

"I made Miyamoto give it," I answered looking straight into her eyes. "I've never had that much money on me."

"I hardly believe it," Saotome snorted. "You don't look like a tough guy."

"What'd you say now?" I couldn't suppress a grin taking my gun out of the inner pocket. "Just one round did it, babe," I swung out the cylinder to show her.

"Oh, shit!" I noticed how she changed in face. "Damn, did you really?.." She rushed back to the drawer and counted the money again.

"That's okay, nobody will be after it," I put my gun back. "You're no way in danger."

"I see," she put the money back in the drawer. "Why did you do it for her?"

"I did it for myseld first and foremost," I answered abruptly. "That was my responsibility."

"Won't you get caught and sent to prison?"

"I don't know," I answered frankly. "Maybe."

"Holy crap," she leaned back to the wall. "I'm supposed to thank you, I guess."

"No, you're not."

"Okay," she sat down on a cushion at the table. "Wanna have a drink?"

"Yeah, I'd like to," I sat down next to her and gulped down the only glass on the table. She poured it again and made a sip, then gave it to me – I gulped it down again.

"Don't be rush," she chuckled. "I don't want you thrawing up here."

"I won't," I promised. "You know, I hate drunk people." Her eyes widened. "My father's a fucking dispo piece of shit. He's unemployed, squalid and aggressive when drunk. Sometimes I have to beat him up before he beats up my mother. I think that booze is crap. I hate it."

"Really?" she poured the glass, emptying the bottle. "Then why are you drinking now?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, feeling a lump in my throat. "You know, too many things've happened recently, and I feel as if I wasn't living my life anymore. I mean, I can't control my own actions, as if I was a puppet or something like this."

"Really?" she said again in the same tone. "Then the booze won't help you. At least, it doesn't help me," she made a long sip from the glass and gave it to me. "I feel so afraid. So helpless and unprotected. Now I realize how fragile a human life is – it can be broken at once, without any reason, just for fun, and nobody can help. You're lucky – you didn't see Megumi-chan this morning. I'll never forget it." I made a sip myself and gave the glass back to her.

"I've seen some other stuff I won't forget as well." I wanted to ask her why had it all happened to us, but realized timely how stupid the question was. "Why do we have to drink from one and the same glass?"

"You don't like it?" she chuckled. "Come on, Yasunobu-kun, that's an indirect kiss! Doesn't it feel good for you?" she whispered leaning a bit forward, and I could feel her breath. She was reeking of alcohol.

"No." Was it really my voice? "I want a direct one."

When our lips met, I could feel the taste of liquor again – on her tongue. The alcohol had already damaged my motor coordination, so we both moved awkwardly, biting each other's lips too hard, hitting our foreheads against each other when getting on the bed, pulling off the clothes too harshly, stroking each other's bodies to the extent of pain, whispering something unintellingible, screaming out swearing words…

"Yuka-chan," I mumbled having collapsed on the bed by her side, panting. "Weren't we supposed to turn off the light?"

"I guess so," she was panting too, her tanned skin moist with sweat. "You'd better use a condom next time," she added didactically, like a sempai she actually was.

"Is there going to be a next time?"

* * *

I woke up amidst the night again – now there really was somebody in the room. I could make out the obscure figure near the bed – it was looking at me. Yuka was sound asleep, and I could hear her deep breath. I was looking up at the shadow towering over me, speechless. Who was that? The figure stood still, examining me, and under its glare I felt small and miserable, like an insect. Did we leave the door open? Shit!

I realized that I'd left my gun in my jacket, on a hanger right next to the door. Did the figure take it? If it was somebody from Miyamoto gang, he'd known about it. The figure stood still. How much time'd passed? It felt like a thousand years. What the fuck was going on?

"Wh-ho are you?" my lips moved silently. The visitor didn't answer, still motionless. "What d-do you - "A ringtone interrupted me, and I shuddered abruptly. Where the hell it was? I leaned over the bed verge, looking into the darkness under it. I hadn't taken Asahina's mobile with me – but it still rang.

"Fuck… what are you doing?" Yuka mumbled sleepily.

"Ah? Don't you hear it?" Only then I realized the ringtone was over. I looked around – the figure was gone too, and only Yuka was sitting on the bed, rubbing her eyes. "Shit. I had a bad dream, nevermind."

No, that wasn't a dream – I had to lie not to look weird, but I was sure of it. I got out of the bed and checked the door – it was locked, as expected.

"Hey, what are you doing there?" Yuka asked.

"Sorry, I've heard a strange sound coming from the door," I made up one more lie.

"Come on, there weren't any sounds." She yawned. "Get back into the bed and don't creep me out."

Only I saw it. Only I heard the ringtone. Was I going crazy? No – a crazy one would never admit it, or even think of it. Then what it was? It wasn't the first time it came to me – what did it want? Shit, I was really scared. Before getting back to the bed, I left the gun on the floor next to it. But would it help?

"Yuka-chan," I asked suddenly even for myself. "Isn't there a temple nearby?" I never believed in any gods. And I still didn't. But why not have a try, I thought then.

"Yeah," she replied in an unpleasant tone. "That place pisses me off."

"Why?"

"The priest is a fucking asshole," she snorted. "He's a far-right fanatic and he hangs around with all those fascists creeps at his shrine. The place's always full of mothrfuckers," she yawned. "Fuck that Sakurai jerk."

"Sakurai?" The name sounded familiar… too familiar. Far-right. Temple nearby. Sakurai…

"Yeah, that's his surname," Yuka mumbled, sleepy. "Yamato told me something about his daughter once, but I don't remember…" She was falling asleep. "She might be cute…"

Yes. She was.

* * *

Mother didn't ask me where I'd been last night – she just nodded as I was passing by the room, not averting her glare from the TV screen. Reciprocally, I didn't ask her why she wasn't at work and what a pregnancy test was doing at our apartment. Well, actually, I wasn't sure if there had been a pregnancy test in my pocket at all – for anybody except me. Father was gone somewhere again.

"Mom, I'm going out now." She nodded again, absorbed into a talk show. "I'm meeting my friend at a convenience store near an abandoned building site, I've written the address on a paper, you can find it on my table." She didn't react at all. "I'm planning to be home by 10 p.m. the latest."

"Okay, that's up to you," she replied distractedly. "Enjoy yourself, Ya-chan!" she forced a smile.

"I'll send you an SMS when I'm at the store."

"What for?" she finally looked at me. "I don't think it's necessary," mother chuckled. "You're not a little boy. What will your girlfriend think?"

"How did you know - " I paused in mid-sentence. It really was a logical guess, although we meant completely different things. "Uh… for you not to worry." Now it was my turn to force a smile.

"I don't worry," she shrugged. "What can happen anyway?"

It was ridiculous. What a fucking world did she live in to ask something like that? Whatever could fucking happen, moreover – the worst could happen easily.

"Okay. I'll send it anyway. Don't forget – the address is on the paper on my table." She didn't understand what I meant. And it was expectable.

In fact, that was a farewell, and the paper was left to facilitate the search of my body in the worst-case scenario. For it to be found more promptly than Yamato's corpse.

As I'd arranged a meeting with Yamato's murderer.

I tried my best to look as casual and unsuspicious as possible. I didn't tell her anything about Yamato, or the new type of drug, or whatever else – I talked to her about Miyamoto only. I hadn't made a clear statement, but hinted that I'd got some problems with him. I asked her to meet me at the convenience store next to the unfinished building and talk for a bit in the evening. Surprisingly, that place didn't seem strange to her – she agreed casually. Or was it her cue – a nice girl who can't suspect anybody of something bad – which she played ably?

I was going to check it myself. As with Suzune, I hadn't got any actual clues – but there were too many hints, too much indirect evidence. Far-right activists coming to her house regularly – and her father was involved in the same scandal as Miyamoto's dealer! Always hanging around near Miyamoto and his guys – and being actually invisible for them, not taken into consideration. Being a Yamato stalker. Living in a couple of minutes from the alley he was killed at – just to rush there and back, as if she didn't absent from the shrine at all – was staying at the yard, for example – and then went to school, being seen by her parents and thus having an ironclad alibi… Shit, nobody would think of her at all when considering the probable murderer!

Sakurai Honka wasn't the type to kill her classmate in an alley, even if we presumed she'd stolen the drugs from Miyamoto with Yamato. But I wasn't the type to do what I did as well. There are no types in the real world – too twisted to admit its reality before you face it yourself.

* * *

When she emerged from the dark-grey haze of rain, I walked out of the convenience store I was hiding in.

"Hi, Yasunobu-kun! Come on, we can share my umbrella, no need to soak." I accepted her invitation. She looked as usual – cute and neat, a model high school girl. She smelled of something strawberry-like, to crown all. "Shall we go somewhere?"

"Uh, sure." That cold rain perfectly suited the revenge scene if it was a criminal drama movie – but I couldn't take her to any suitable place under it. "There's a café nearby."

We walked down the deserted rainy street under a big violet umbrella, just like a usual couple. Apart from not holding hands. Apart from the gun in my pocket. There were many people waiting for the rain to stop in the café, so we hardly found suitable seats. Honoka ordered a milk shake, like a usual good girl. I paid for it – as if we were on a date.

"Why don't you order anything for yourself?" she asked in a caring tone.

"I don't want anything," I shrugged. Actually, I've just run out of the remains of my money.

"You look very upset," I could hear sympathy in her voice. "Did something really bad happen?"

"Yes," I nodded. "Let's talk about it later, okay?"

So we stayed there, chatting about different stuff, maybe not romantic enough for a couple on a date, but nonchalant enough for us to look not just like normal, but model high school guys – like those in social ads and stupid doramas. Maybe if Saotome saw us she'd become jealous. Of course, there was nothing to be jealous about – those seemingly model moments were going to be the last in my more or less normal life.

When the rain finally stopped, it was already dark outdoors. The street was monochrome, wet shining in the pale street lights and lucid moonlight of the sky which'd become clear – it looked surrealistic and unnatural, at least for me.

"Honoka-chan, let's go to the bulding site," I nodded in the direction of the black monolith.

"Why there?" she looked at me, surprised. "That's a strange place. Is it safe there?"

"I've been there a couple of times before. You know, I'm kind of abandoned stuff fan. It's really beautiful inside." That was a downside of her role – she couldn't just say "no". At least, I hoped so.

"Hey, Yasunobu-kun." She looked worried. "Don't tell me you were thinking of suicide, like… uh, like Suzuka-san."

"I did. But I don't want to do it," I shook my head as I noticed her wide eyes. "Just let's have a walk there. I promise, that's okay."

"Well, okay," she replied hesitantly. "I'm really worried about you."

"Why are you?"

"You're strange, Yasunobu-kun. I didn't know you like places like this, and you told me something bad'd happened to you. By the way, you promised to tell me what."

"Yes, sure. You know, I've come to know something very depressing recently." I felt strangely calm, as if nothing special was going on. Even if it was actually a date, I'd be more agitated, probably.

"Really? What was that?" She looked frightened as we stepped into the darkness of the building site from the lights of the street. But our eyes got used to it soon. My eyes, al least.

"About Yamato," I sighed dramatically and paused walking on. I wanted her to show the signs of being worried.

"What in particular?" she asked casually, with a perfect composure. Was I mistaken again? Had I made a wrong conclusion about Honoka? I had to make it sure anyway.

"About him and Miyamoto gang," I stopped walking, my back to Honoka.

"So? What do you mean?"

That's my fucking… Fuck it!

"He stole the drugs for you and you killed him!" I turned to face her, the gun in my hand. I couldn't see her face – only the outline of her figure. "Miyamoto'd figured out it were you. Go there," I nodded in the direction of the concrete carcass.

"What? Yasunobu-kun, are you kidding?" Her posture became tense instantly.

"Don't try to run away – the bullet is faster," I smirked. "Go."

"Yasu - "

"Fucking go!" She obeyed. Honoka was slowly walking before me, at the gunpoint.

"Are you going to kill me? Did Miyamoto order you that?" The voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

"Fuck Miyamoto. I want to know the truth." My voice was trembling.

"Yamato made me do it." The voice was calm. "He told me to steal that crap. He used me."

"What do you mean by used? Walk up the stairs. Go!" I had to raise my voice again.

It was hard to move there in darkness.

"He said that if I help him, he'd be my boyfriend. He said it wasn't much – just some drugs for him…"

"Did he want to sell it?"

"Yes." The second floor.

"Why couldn't he do it himself?"

"He was too afraid of Miyamoto. You know, he was kind of their slave and they treated him brutally." The third floor.

"Why did he ask you?"

"Because I knew where they hid it. You know, my father's a good friend of Miyamoto's boss. Why are we going upstairs?"

"What happened after you stole the drugs?" I just ignored her question.

"He didn't know where to sell it. What to do with it."

"And?" The fourth floor.

"I told him we needed to test it. He said he'd test it on you."

"On me?" What the fuck did the bitch say? "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No," she stopped and turned to face me in the middle of the staircase, a black silhouette against the dark sky. She didn't change her tone, her voice remaining perfectly calm. "That was exactly what he proposed."

"Go on. Both with walking and talking," I realized she wasn't giving me bullshit. How could my best friend – the one I'd got into all that crap for – say something like that? I felt nauseous. The nice Yamato of my childhood… Had he ever existed anywhere outside my mind? Who I was going to avenge?

"But I didn't want to have it tested on you." The fifth floor. "I let him make a choice: either he tests it on Suzuka, or I tell everything to Miyamoto, or even to his boss himself when he comes to visit my father again."

"Why Suzuka?"

"Because I had some grounds to think that drug was actually a poison. I hated her."

"I see. What happened then?" The sixths floor.

"He tested it as I told him," Honoka shrugged. "It showed no effect at all. It wasn't a drug – it was just a fake. My father's friend just fucked with Miyamoto."

A drug with no effect? That was something strange. What for would the dealer give it to Miyamoto? Could it be a component to be mixed with something to create an actual drug? Showed no effect... Or could it...

"Yamato got so angry, and so scared," Honoka went on. "He was yelling at me, and I had to threaten him again with denouncing him to Miyamoto. He was always whining, and nagging, and complaining, and blaming me for everything. He attempted to rape me once – I hardly ran away."

"Didn't you like him, huh?" The seventh floor.

"I'm sorry for you if you don't see the difference between love and rape," I could sense contempt in her tone. "He was going crazy. When I came to know he raped his cousin, I started hating him, but I was too afraid myself to denounce Yamato. I was afraid even of my own father – you know he's much like Yamato in his last days. Then Asahina died."

"Did she die by herself?"

"What do you mean by herself?" The eighths floor. "I don't know. I wasn't there. But after she died, Yamato went completely nuts. He blamed me for her death, he said she'd killed herself because of the drug."

"She killed herself because she was pregnant," I said gloomily. "Yamato'd raped her when she was unconscious at the bath, and she got pregnant. When she came to know about that, she committed suicide. She was in love with a guy who died in an accident back in her hometown - "

"What?" Honoka stopped again. "Fuck, I didn't know that! He was really disgusting!" I've never heard that much hatred in anybody's voice. Even in my mother's when she spoke about my father. Even in Miho's when she was talking to me.

"Go on. We'll stop at the ninth floor." She walked forward.

"He threatened to kill me. He demanded to dispose of the drug – but it was my only means to control Yamato! So, I decided on it. It was my responsibility to finish that jerk." She stood in the middle of a concrete square, the dark sky behind her. "I told him we'd burn it down in the alley near the shrine, in the morning, before the school. When he came… Shit, you know it. I don't want to recall all that happened."

"What did you do to the drugs?" I was pointing my gun at her.

"Got rid of it along with the knife." As expected. So, now it didn't mean anymore what was the matter about its effect - there was nothing more to test. But something was still bugging me, not even a thought, but kind of a strange presentiment, as if I'd missed something important.

"Yasunobu-kun, I'm sorry for killing your friend. You know, I can't sleep well after that. My life'd changed completely, and I feel like going crazy myself." I couldn't recognize Honoka's voice. "If you're going to kill me – please, just do it quick."

What could I do to her? Wasn't she the one to be avenged for in that story? Didn't she prevent Yamato from testing the drug on me? I felt tears in my eyes. Best friend, revenge… What did that all really mean? Did it all worh anything when my best friend was going to use me as a guinea pig? Who was really the victim there?

"Honoka-chan," I lowered the barrel. "I killed Kobayakawa for raping Megumi-san from the dormitory. Miyamoto helped me to dispose of the body. I don't feel sorry for killing that moron – that was the right thing to do. No regrets," I couldn't suppress sobs. "But… I feel sorry for being like this. I feel sorry for… you know, going right through, without thinking. I thought Yamato was my best friend – no, I believed… fucking no!" That 'no' echoed in the empty construction. "I wanted to believe in it. But what for? What was it all fucking for? I've been taking revenge on the wrong people all the way, but now, when I see the real murderer – I feel really wrong. You know, Yamato kept this gun in his room – I took it from there. I guess he was serious about killing you."

"He spoke sometimes of a mass murder at our school, like some guys do in America. But I didn't know he had a gun. Where could he get it from?"

Yes, the gun was another unexplainable point of the story, as well as the drug. Where could Yamato'd got enough money to buy it? A drug showing no effect, a firearm from nowhere... A strange something stalking me. Was it my paranoia? Or could there be...

"No idea," I shrugged. It didn't really matter anyway. It was finished already. "You're free to go, Honoka-chan. If you want, report on me taking you hostage and threatening with an illegal handgun."

She didn't say anything – just headed past me downstairs. There was nothing more to say. She was devastated no less than me.

I approached the edge of the floor slowly, looking down at the moonlit City. Just a moment before I had Yamato's murderer before me and a gun in my hand – all that I'd dreamed about recently. But what did it all worth? In fact, I was fucked up from the very start – and I didn't need to get to the finish to realize it, actually. The story'd already ended with Yamato's death – and it didn't need my late, stupid and inopportune interruption.

"Hey, who the fuck…" The husky voice from the eighths floor was too familiar to me. Even if he hadn't used the word 'fuck'. Shit, I needed to interrupt before the old motherfucked did something bad to Honoka! As I rushed to the staircase, I heard a shriek and somebody running – Honoka was scared to panic with that shitbag suddenly approaching her from the darkness. Shit, that fucking old jerk! As I was reaching the gun with my hand, I heard one more sound – a short surprised holler, and then, in a moment – a bump somewhere… on the ground.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" the bum yelled madly. "What did you… Fucking lil' bitch! Shit, I don't want a corpse on me! Fuck! Fucking fuck!" The bum fussed like a scared animal, then the fuss calmed down – the old motherfucker escaped. The second dead schoolgirl turned out to be too much for him – he was leaving his territory he used to be so proud of. The whole scene took less than a minute – abrupt and fatuously deadly.

I stood there, now sobbing unreservedly. Poor Honoka – it was really easy to stumble on the bumpy concrete floor in the darkness. I didn't feel sorry, I didn't feel sad – nothing like that. All I felt was a huge emptiness inside me, an emptiness bigger that the black monolith of the building, than the sinister abyss of the night sky. I had to leave the building from another side – not to leave any traces near Honoka's body. Let it be one more unrequited love teenage suicide. Let's blame the cruel parents, the poor educational system, the Western culture, the far-right activists, the economic crisis…

* * *

As I was leaving the site, I could swear I saw a lonely figure, slim and elegant, at the edge of a high floor – I didn't notice which one. It was visible only for a fracture of second – before being swallowed up by the inpenetrable darkness.


End file.
